


red swan

by channingtatumchippendalesmovie



Category: Grandia Xtreme
Genre: (valid warning imho), Blood and Gore, Canon - Video Game, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Death, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Headcanon Backstory, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Introspection, Kroitz being Kroitz, Magic, Manipulation, Mindfuck, Monsters, Novelization, POV Antagonist, POV Third Person Limited, References to War, Violence, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 08:37:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16281230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/channingtatumchippendalesmovie/pseuds/channingtatumchippendalesmovie
Summary: 'Success had never and would never be a ladder. Success was a pillar, tall and lithe and polished, and if one’s fingers slipped so much as an inch they risked the sharp drop, the fall into the pit of failure and agony and shame and despair. Those that survived their collision with rock bottom were then presented with a choice: remain placid amongst the weak, those who had never even begun the climb, those who might as well embrace death before it could embrace them - or clasp the pillar, and start again.'The story of a war hero, his ambitions, and their consequences.





	1. Prologue + Act I

 

* * *

 

 

_when i'm standing in the fire i will look him in the eye_   
_and i will let the devil know that i was brave enough to die_   
_and there's no heaven he can show me steeper than my pride_

 

* * *

 

Brotherless. Peerless. Matchless. The prodigy of the Nortis Army. Talented and charismatic and astute and _brilliant_. So the Commanding Officers had told the fresh-faced young recruit all those years ago, their deft hands pinning medals of the ascending ranks to his uniform with pride and optimism and faith, faith that their rising star - an outstanding tactician and unrivalled by his comrades in combat - would lead them to glory, win them the war. There had been no one like him before. There would be no one like him again. And every word he'd known to be true. Every utterance of praise he matched with humility, a grateful smile and the salute of the Nortis: right fist to one’s chest, an offering of the heart. "It is an honour to fight for my country and her people in the pursuit of peace."

What a damned charade it had all been.

Peace…? Peace was just a secondary measure, a fanciful concept made to keep the masses happy. The Nortis-Arcada war had come to a close with a truce. The mounted warriors of Arcada were powerless to stop the increasingly mechanised infantry of the Nortis. Technology harvested from the ruins of the Ancients had revolutionised the country and her army along with it. Prosperity as well as victory had been brought to the people. The tanks and heavy artillery they crafted crushed Arcadian lives to dust; their bodies and souls beaten into submission. Even in the time of peace, granted mercifully by the Nortis commanders to avoid ‘unnecessary bloodshed’, Arcadians that had not yet lost everything vowed revenge; claimed the technology of the ancients’ was a sacred thing, not to be harnessed by such bloodstained hands. Pathetic last cries of a wounded animal, begging to be culled by its hunter. But Arcada survived. The concerns of the Nortis Army were directed elsewhere.

Perhaps that had truly been the beginning of the end.

 

\--

 

The first he had heard of the Quanlee Project, it was in passing at a tactical rendezvous. Back then he’d been naught but a young Lieutenant, a curious boy who’d landed himself amongst the hallowed halls and ivory towers of the superiors’ quarters through the merit of his talent, just in time to catch the bored utterings from higher officers regarding the original purpose of the location of the base at Locca. For as long as the war had been raging - perhaps longer, the timescale had never been clear - the Science Department had been attempting to break the seal of an entrance that supposedly lead to ruins. They claimed the efforts were futile, that the expenses and labour were better spent elsewhere. What could possibly be worth the toil of fifty years? Likely the seal would never be opened. With no personnel left willing to conduct expeditions, the once greatly anticipated project faded into obscurity, the structures surrounding the seal as derelict as the funds were dry. Only one scientist remained, clinging to the last things he had: ambition, and hope.

 

\--

 

Death and destruction had not ended with the war. Telegrams and bulletins that had spoken of conflict amongst humanity reported instead on the sudden occurrence of natural calamities. Tidal surges on an unprecedented scale had destroyed the Arcadian coastline. Hazma’s forested borderlands had been flattened by hurricanes. Earthquakes had shattered the northernmost Nortis territories. Those that lived to tell their tales huddled like flocks of sheep in the army’s facilities; cried for aid and for their dead, begged to know why the Spirits had forsaken them. Was this to be their punishment for the sins of the war? Had the conflict angered the Spirits so, that countless civilian lives were taken as penance?

Aiming to work alongside their former enemies, the army had commenced operations to discover the cause of the so-called ‘Elemental Disorder’. But first came the clean up, the relocation of those who had lost their lands and homes, a sense of comfort and normalisation for the displaced, treatment for the wounded and dignified burials for the dead.

And the people began to cast aside the weariness the war had brought upon them. No longer did they see the army as a destructive and bloodthirsty entity, but as protectors, a necessity to keep them safe.

What had he felt, back then, waving droves of his civilian countrymen onto chartered trucks away from their ruined lands? He’d watched them claw like rats over one another in desperation, never knowing when the next aftershock would hit, would open in the scarred ground beneath their feet and swallow them whole, claim their lives as it had claimed thousands before them. What had he felt as a distraught mother had thrust her small daughter into his arms, begged for him to take her away before the earthquakes came again? What had he felt when she looked upon him with eyes awash with tears and told him that her own life didn’t matter, so long as her little girl survived?

Compassion? Empathy…?

No.

Shame. And disgust. This was what had become of the Nortis, the glorious people of his homeland, reduced to grovelling, crying masses. He had whet his blade with the blood of countless Arcadians in their name, offered them his heart and soul and body as a soldier. A heart, soul and body they still possessed, so long as he held a rank in the forces. So long as there was air in his lungs and blood in his veins.

Until the end.

The wretched twisting he’d felt in his stomach was not from pity but disgrace. The Disorder had taken their homes, their livelihoods; their families and their friends. Uprooted and displaced them. It had robbed them of their dignity, of their honour. He had fought the war for their betterment and the Disorder had all but undone everything he’d stood for.

And so he made a choice.

He would bring an end to it all.

He would stop the Disorder. He would lead his people back to prosperity. No matter what it took, he would rebuild his country…

...And then, he would rebuild the world.

 

* * *

**ACT I**

 

Doctor Specto was an enigma. Questionable at best, but largely just a sleazy eccentric. Nobody knew where he’d come from or when he’d joined the army. Some of the superiors guessed at him having been around before the war, or supposed that he might not have even remembered himself. None of them particularly gave a damn.

Kroitz, for one, certainly didn’t. The doctor was a snivelling, spineless leech. Lanky and rat-like with a hunched neck and a haggard, toadish face, he was amongst the ugliest people Kroitz had ever had the misfortune of meeting. It was little wonder the eyesore spent his days locked up alone in his lab, a place that stank enough of industrial fluids and mildew to make one retch, mumbling strings of nonsense to himself. Were it not for the Disorder, he’d want nothing to do with him.

But, his opinions were ones he had to keep inward. The doctor was still his senior and superior, after all. Offending him would only keep him from the information he sought. Besides, this was the man who’d held all these years onto his pet project, believing he’d one day crack the seal on the ruins below Locca to claim the power known as ‘Quanlee’. If nothing else, their resolution regarding their ambitions made the two of them alike. Kindred, even… It was just a shame it had to be with such a disgusting cretin.

That day, he looked upon him with beady eyes hidden behind glasses, shrinking in caution and suspicion like a kicked dog, questioning the sudden presence of a young Lieutenant in his research quarters.

With smiling lips and feigned politeness, Kroitz offered his hand to the man. “Dr. Specto, I presume?”

“Y-Yes.” Was his lisped reply. He did not readily accept the hand to shake, but straightened up a little before asking, “Is there something I can help you with, Lieutenant?”

“Word around the base is you have a theory on the Disorder.” Unperturbed, Kroitz lowered his hand to his side.

The doctor’s protruding lips spread into a hard line. He adjusted his glasses awkwardly. “Ah… Well. Yes, I do.” He coughed. “Who sent you?”

It was almost an amusing question. The superiors had long been brushing aside anything and everything the doctor said as the ramblings of a madman. They dismissed even his theory on something as pressing as the Disorder, believing him to be using it as a means of racking up support for his own project. And, perhaps he was. Perhaps the information he’d receive from the doctor would be complete horseshit. But that was a bridge to be crossed when it was reached. So far, no one else had offered anything in the way of plan to end the Disorder.

“No one.” Was the upfront response Kroitz gave him. “I’m here by my own accord.” _No one else is willing to believe you, after all._

The doctor paused, then lowered his head and made a few odd grumbling noises as he rearranged the papers on his desk. A minute or so passed before he glanced in Kroitz’s direction again, cringing as if he’d suddenly realised he was still stood there. In a strained tone he spoke again, “...You were the Lieutenant who dealt with the recent excavations, weren’t you?”

Kroitz nodded firmly. “My work was stalled. My C.O. had me moved to clean-up duty.” From a practical standpoint there wasn’t an awful lot of difference. He’d had to exhume bodies from piles of dirt and wreckage either way. “I believe the specimens I obtained were run past you, doctor?” He continued to force a smile, doing his absolute best to pretend the excessive stench of chlorine surrounding the lab was not already lodged with a sour taste at the back of his throat. “It’s surprising we haven’t met until now. Regarding the study of the Ancients’ culture, our goals are aligned. And the guidance and feedback given in your reports are indispensable to me and my team.” Ah, no. Perhaps the sour taste was from the words leaving his mouth. Refined and practised flattery came naturally to him now but it almost seemed wasted on someone like the doctor.

Stooping his head in humility, the doctor stammered, “A-Ah… Th-Thank you.”

“From what I hear, you believe there to be ruins at the each source of the Disorder. With your endorsement I may be able to obtain permission from my C.O. to search them.” An endorsement from the doctor was not the most idyllic, but it would be enough. Once he had that, it was simply a matter of having his C.O. believe it was the right way forward - or, rather, that he was capable of successfully carrying it out. The disasters waned in strength at times, but they showed no sign of stopping. If what the doctor said was true, and ruins were indeed at the core of each imbalance, then it was near suicidal to even try to approach them. And his brilliance could only lead them so far. However skilled a soldier he was, however sharp his wit and his blade were, he was skin and bone and flesh and blood and if he managed to put a foot wrong the disasters would take his life as easily as they’d taken thousands already.

Given the curdling frown on the doctor’s face, likely he was thinking the same thing. “Yes…” He cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “As you’re aware, Lieutenant, the Ancients regularly used magic as a power source. During your excavations, you also came across the ‘fuses’ that are the hub of this power. These were removed and sent to me for analysis.”

Kroitz had an inkling of where this theory was going. He crossed his arms in thought, recalling the last excavation he’d lead. It felt like years had passed since his duties had been changed. “The fuses we obtained had been out of use for some time. Nothing of interest happened when we removed them.”

“Their power may have been dormant all this time. What has triggered them, I’m not quite sure, but theoretically...” The doctor’s glasses slipped from his crooked nose again and he thumbed them back into place. “...Removing these particular fuses should stop the Disorder… H-However, Lieutenant, the real difficulty presented to us is reaching the ruins beyond the disasters…”

“So it would seem.”

A sheepish smile twisted onto the doctor’s face. “Are you… Completely serious? Do you really wish to survey the ruins, despite the risk?”

‘Yes’ was the answer Kroitz almost gave. ‘Yes’ alone may have sufficed. But it would not have driven his point home. There were many things he ‘wished’ to do. Many things that were not possible, with the world as it was. He’d joined the army in pursuit of glory, to make something of his life that was not mundane and routine. Already he had achieved so much in that regard. He was a war hero, a prodigy. The greatest soldier the Nortis had witnessed. But it was not enough. The world had been broken and the people yearned for an end to their suffering. He could give them what they wanted. He could mend their shattered world. He could become their saviour... If _he_ could not do it - if he _did not_ do it - then who was there left? Who among them could alter humanity’s wretched fate? The general and his entourage, ruminating in their bases far from the conflict? This spineless leech of a doctor? The thought was almost laughable. None of them would ever hope to achieve what he could - not alone, not without his aid… None of them had the resolve.

He untucked his arms. “If we have a lead, we need to follow it. The fact we may have a chance to bring the disorder to an end outweighs any risks.” With his spine straightened and his chin raised ever so slightly, Kroitz loomed above the shrivelled doctor. But in that moment, he chose to loosen his shoulders and lower his head. It closed the gap between them, just a bit. “We are soldiers, doctor. Every man and woman among us knew their life was at stake from the moment they enlisted.” With the Disorder claiming lives with every passing day, those that had arrived late to the long and bloody war with Arcada had not avoided peril. Rehearsed words offered to his superiors and subordinates alike left his mouth with amity, as they had before, as they would again, “Protecting the people should be our priority, no matter the cost.”

He placed his hand forwards, believing the doctor would this time accept. They shook firmly, amicably, but as Kroitz withdrew with a contented smile he fought the urge to wipe his palm on the side of his uniform.

 

\--

 

The depths of the Sandworm’s Den rumbled with shockwaves. Every step they took the ground was ready to open below them, swallow them into the abyss, and yet, and yet they had come so far, _so damned far_. On their fifth attempt they’d broken through. Scores of mangled tanks and artillery from earlier tries left in their wake, he’d ordered the squad forward as soon as the earthquakes had eased off and against all odds they’d done it, they’d crossed the upturned land and shot over the threshold. And then their feet had fallen upon solid ground - the foyer at the ruins’ entrance seemed safe and stable. The men had cheered, in victory, in relief; they’d embraced one another and laughed through shaken exhales, praised the Spirits that their lives had not been taken.

They’d gotten ahead of themselves, the idiots. Surviving the earthquakes had merely been the first step, the largest but by no means the last. But there they had been, congratulating themselves for making it where others had failed, others had perished, and they’d only shut themselves up when Kroitz had barked over his shoulder at them to do so. They fell back into line at his command… But it was not enough.

Gilled, scaled creatures, monsters that had inhabited the depths of the ruins for generations since the Ancients had left their cities for the surface, dropped like flies when struck by Crimson’s edges. Cold blood painted the length of her blade, and like a beating heart she pulsed in his hands as she drank her fill. So too did his blood and adrenaline flow with her. It was in those fleeting moments of battle, guiding her elegance through the grit and the slaughter, that he felt as alive as she was; that they were a single entity and it was enough, almost, to cause him to forget his place - where the men were, their position and that every step they’d tread risked their lives. _Almost_. He did not believe himself so unthorough.

However, the squad was a different matter. Their focus on the colossal horned monster the gilled pawns surrounded wavered. Dust lifted from the ground in waves every thrash the creature made; if its claws didn’t knock the men down they smashed into the chamber floor or walls. The vibrations made it difficult to stand upright, to get a clean hit on any of the surrounding targets… And that was disregarding the rubble that had begun to trickle down from the high, cracked ceiling.

Why - why did they have to be so damned inept? As an elite squad they should have had the horned monster surrounded and dispatched within minutes. Had it merely been their focus that had been broken? Or had the meaning of ‘elite’ meant so little since the war had ended? Was he, alone, the last of the military’s true strength?

There was no time to dwell on those thoughts. Not when the situation was growing to be as dire as it was. Briefly he tore his attention away from the pawns, out of necessity, to take note of the squad’s actions. If he worked fast enough he could figure out their weak points and aid them as he saw fit. He drove Crimson deep into another pawn’s gullet and kicked the creature’s trembling corpse off to withdraw the blade, before beginning to edge back from the madness, eyes drifting towards the men again.

With a thunderous roar the colossal monster drove its horn into the stomach of a private launching a head-on attack. The few that did not recoil in horror at their comrade’s innards and blood ejected through his back and the wretched cry escaping his lungs pressed on with the assault, but they too faltered when the ground below them shook once more. As Kroitz, too, fought to keep himself on both feet, the horned creature grabbed the impaled man in its claws and tossed him at the chamber wall like a damp rag. Screams of his name from raw throats echoed in the crumbling structure and fell upon deaf ears. His mangled form dropped in a bloodied pile; if there was breath in him yet it would be his last.

“ _Focus_!” Kroitz yelled over their hysteria, a fruitless attempt to regain control of the situation. “Let down your guard and you’ll die the same!”There was no time left to regroup, no time to correctly reconsider their tactics - there was only time to act. And so he darted over the uneven ground, past the bodies of other men curled up and writhing with their injuries, to the centre of the fray.

Crimson ricocheted from the heavy fist of the horned monster, trailing a stream of red in her wake; she gleamed in the patchy light, her sharp whisks through air and flesh akin to elated laughter. _Hah! Enjoying yourself at a time like this... Are you mocking me?_ His bitter thought was likely not far from the truth. To an ancient being such as her, the fragility of human life must have been an amusement… How unfortunate then, for her, that her livelihood depended on him. Whether he lived or died determined if she’d fight, drink, laugh again, or remain buried underground, bound solely to her stagnant blade for another bout of countless generations.

“Lieutenant! The pawns are closing in - what are your orders, Sir!?”

Disembodied words from one of the men cut through the madness but he was not prepared to respond; the horned creature clenched a fist around Crimson’s edges and pressed its weight upon him. Through gritted teeth Kroitz spat dismissively, forcing the blade upwards in an attempt to break free before his legs were forced to give out, “Stand your ground!”

With the command leaving his mouth he sliced through the monster’s claws, enraging the beast further. It staggered and unleashed a deafening roar and threw its unhurt fist at the chamber wall. More rubble dropped with the collision.

So - that was how it was…? An attempt to cave the place in. Suicide out of necessity. To keep the squad from moving forwards? Fascinating that a creature like that could even fathom the concept of the greater good: fascinating, were it not such a nuisance. Under different circumstances he may have considered keeping the beast alive for analysis. But then and there, death hung above the back of his neck, rather literally, and he could not afford to lose sight of why he was fighting in the first place.

Using his free arm to shield his head and face from the falling debris, he paced towards the thrashing monster, eyes locked on through the curtain of his bangs. His knees buckled, threatened to give way; every breath he drew he inhaled thick dust but he proceeded. If he fell, if he keeled over coughing up his stinging lungs, then he had _failed, failed miserably_ , and he might as well have thrust Crimson through his chest before anything else could end him.

There was a cry. Sharp and scathing like nails on chalk. Not a cry of pain or anguish but one akin to the monster’s - raw and irate and for that single moment in time it burnt into his ears and blocked out all other noise, the echoes of the earthquakes, the wails of the men and their dying comrades. A lone soldier leapt through the destruction, out of thin air, all caution thrown to the wind, his blade lifted above his head as if it were a spear. And down it came, straight between the monster’s horns and through its skull. The creature ceased the banging of its fists to recoil, head yanking backwards just as the soldier released his grip, allowing his body to drop away.

What came over Kroitz in the few moments that followed, what part of him took over in time to grab the soldier falling away from the beast, tuck his lean body underneath his free arm, dock Crimson on his back and call out the order for withdrawal, he didn’t know. But there he was, running backwards, not forwards, the way they had come, to the chamber’s entrance. Once, twice, three times he threatened to fall to the shaking ground. But he only allowed it when the threshold was cleared, hurtling towards the solid floor of the corridor beyond, loosening his hold and dropping the other soldier in the process. The thundering noise of the collapsing ceiling drowned out everything else. No more could the anguished cries of the men be heard, so too did the monsters’ guttural sounds disappear.

Then - silence. Stillness, and utter _silence_ . No low, consistent rumbling or quakes from elsewhere. Just the blood rushing in his head as he lay face down on the cold, hard ground. _Withdraw_ … The last word he’d demanded from the men hung still upon the tip of his tongue. His breath was in his throat, trapped tight even when he tried to swallow it down. _Withdraw_ \- what had he been thinking…?

He pushed himself up with his forearms, moving to a seated position, then onto his knees. In the limited light he made out the tinted, jagged edges of the stone pile forming a wide seal at what once had been the chamber’s entrance. The inside of his lip was sore and he tasted copper; he’d bit it during the fall.

 _Withdraw_ … Instead of having the men fight to the very end he’d told them to run, run for their damned lives. He hadn’t seen, hadn’t looked back to check if they’d obeyed. But the very fact he’d suggested it at all… It had come too late to spare any of their lives, it had been entirely useless. Just a stain upon their honour, a suggestion of cowardice in their final moments before the ceiling had crushed them.

Yet still - _he_ lived. Was he also tarnished by disgrace, for having run? The thought filled his aching lungs with the dank air and he yelled out into the empty darkness, slamming his fist into the ground not unlike the horned beast had done mere fleeting minutes before.

The small streams of light caught the outline of a moving figure… And the thoughts that plagued his mind started to disappear. That soldier, the one he had dragged with him, had attacked without hesitation, had brought his sword down through the monster’s skull to delay the collapse, to buy them time to escape. And until Kroitz had grabbed him, pulled him out of the mess and into relative safety with him, he’d been prepared to leave himself unarmed, drop to the ground and sacrifice his own life to hinder the inevitable.

So Kroitz supposed, at least. The soldier may well have just been a self-destructive moron. Either way, he was all that remained of the squad - somewhat ironically.

The soldier’s form moved a little more; he was seated just a few yards from the stone seal, and appeared to be edging closer. Over the stillness, a light, shaking voice could be heard, “Everyone… I-Is everyone…?”

Kroitz rose to his feet, and stepped towards the other soldier. “There’s nothing we can do. Come.” He grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up, earning an emasculated whimper in the process.

“N-No!” The soldier dropped back down the second his lithe, shaking arm was released, hands clawing at the immovable stone. Voice taut and breaking like the worn strings of a violin, he spluttered, “Th-They couldn’t have… You called for them to withdraw…!”

He must have been a young man, this survivor. In his teenage years, perhaps. His body had been exceptionally light and though he spoke on the verge of cracking under the sudden shock and sorrow weighing upon him, his voice was too high to belong to a grown man. What someone like him, likely fresh out of training was doing amongst an elite squad, Kroitz could only fathom a guess. But through all the chaos he’d slain the horned beast and somehow - _somehow_ \- enabled him to save both their lives. Perhaps questioning his position was a discredit to his skill… Yet perhaps, also, there was a time and a place for musing upon such matters, and their situation at hand was not it. After all, he cared very little when the boy was ignoring his orders to clamour at the rocks.

“Get up.” Was the sharp demand Kroitz made, tugging on the same arm. His patience wore thin when the other dropped with a cry again. A clattering of the soldier’s helmet dropping from his lolling head came just before Kroitz’s hand snatched around the front of his uniform, fisting tight in the material. He heaved him to eye level, glowering into his now exposed face. Slits of the corridor’s light touched upon soft yet grimacing features, framed by pale bangs. The instinct of his irritation was to smack sense into the boy, backhand his face and reprimand his behaviour. He prepared to do so, expression hardened, but faltered at the last moment, raised hand dropping back to his side. Watery and glossy eyes glinted as they peered into his own with grief, and he realised they, and the fair face, and the slender frame, did not belong to a young man, but to a woman.

A long exhale left his nose. Irrespective of her sex, her insolence was unbecoming. But he did not wish to raise a hand to her. The notion alone, much less the fact he had almost carried it out, resurfaced bitter memories, ones that he quelled before they could bring about a reaction from him.

He forced a more muted tone, the fingers on her uniform loosening as he looked away, preparing to let her go. “Come along. We must find a different way forward.”

Yet as before, she dropped straight to the ground, agonised. Only this time, she mustered through shaking breaths a reasoning, “M-My ankle, Lieutenant… I can’t stand...”

 _Ah._ So she refused to move because she simply couldn’t. Likely she’d sprained it when he’d fallen with her. Frustrating, though at least now theirs was a predicament that could likely be solved. She clutched at her injured foot, face downcast even when he knelt in front of her and placed his hand atop hers.

“Permit me.” He awaited the silent permission of her withdrawing her hands to lift her ankle. A pale blue glow formed at the tips of his fingers. It was a temporary measure, the healing spell - she would be able to walk again, but once their mission was over and done with she would need to properly recover… Assuming they managed it and didn’t come to meet the same fate as their comrades, of course.

“Everyone…” She began again. “They’re really gone, aren’t they…?”

Inwardly, he groaned. “I expect so.”

He could see her hands wringing in his peripheral vision. She sucked in a breath. “All of them… They were my men. I… If only I’d acted faster...” She grimaced again, but he doubted it was from the pain in her ankle. “I shouldn’t live where they’ve all perished.”

Kroitz frowned, partially because of what he was hearing, and partially because he was wishing he had acted on his initial desire to slap the woman and he loathed the unsettling feeling that gave him. The temptation rose as well, with the leather of her boot under his fingers, to twist her ankle. Incite the pain and remind her where she was, what she was doing and who she was dealing with… _Hm_. He needed a smoke. Badly. But it was neither the time nor the place. “Do you want to join them? Shall I leave you here to rot as well?”

She didn’t answer straight away, and so silence fell between them for a little while. Then, with a sniffling noise, she muttered, “Perhaps that would be for the best.”

“Don’t be stupid, woman.” Was his swift, biting retort. “I didn’t drag you out of there for you to give me such defeatist drivel.” And, why exactly he had pulled her along with his withdrawal, he wasn’t certain. Instinct, perhaps? Had he somehow wanted to ensure the safety of the single soldier who’d shown any kind of resolve, even a foolhardy one? Brow knotted, he looked upon her weary face and though still unimpressed, he restrained his tone, “As soon as you feel you can stand again, we move. That is an order.”

Her hands clasped together, she lifted them to her lips as if she were praying to herself, silently. Perhaps she was. He didn’t think to ask. When she dropped them back to her lap, she squinted, a harshness overtaking her voice, “How can you… How can you be so callous?”

“Is that what you think of me?” Though his voice softened he spoke with a certain rigor as well, so as to match her expression. “Very well, then. Go ahead.” His eyes glanced between her face and the ongoing spell hovering upon her ankle. “I have neither the time nor the capacity to care. I haven’t had either for a very long time.” He met her gaze again, acknowledging her changing look of attentiveness. The words leaving his mouth were honest, to a point, and it almost made them feel foreign upon his tongue, “In the last years of the war, I watched countless men die. Comrades, enemies, their bodies all bled the same colour when they were ripped apart.” He could still remember those days clearly, the trialling times fighting with only infantrymen before the Nortis had created tanks and artillery from the Ancients’ gears they’d excavated; the mud-thick trenches, the battlefield scorched by Arcadian magics. The funerary pyres that burnt so high they seemed to brush the heavens; the stench of smoke and burning flesh. And the infirmary beds packed with survivors - many of whom had lost limbs, their sanity, or both. For a moment he paused to inhale. “Back then, I shifted squads several times. Every few days, I would be reassigned to a different trench, to a different group of men under a different commanding officer. Because…” His eyes lingered upon hers. “...With every single offensive, I would return as the lone survivor.” She broke their eye contact to peer downwards at her folded hands. Knowing her thoughts were shifting with each word he chose to convey to her, he continued, “I was only a boy. But, still, I knew I could never let any of it weigh me down. If I did, if I allowed myself to hesitate, then I would never be able to continue - and the deaths of my comrades would have been in vain.”

A small sigh escaped the woman’s lips, “Sir…”

“Think me callous if you wish. You wouldn’t be the first to do so. But remember why we’re here… Remember why we have to keep moving forwards. So long as the disorder continues, it will claim civilian lives. We give ours to protect those.” The spell came to an end, the swirls of blue disappearing into nothingness. He brought his hands away, and stood.

Slowly, her hands covered her face again. “You’re right… I forgot my place. I’m very sorry.”

 _Good girl._ The corners of his mouth slid into a gratified smile, one he masked as a momentary token of sympathy. “How does your ankle feel? Can you stand?”

With a small nod, she took the hand he offered to her. Though she shuddered still, when lifted to her feet again her posture was sturdy and upright. “Sir… Thank you, Sir.”

Finding another way to the centre of the ruins now that the supposed path forwards had been cut off was going to prove a challenge. The sooner they could move, the better. He was also aware she’d been left unarmed, her weapon buried below the collapsed ceiling along with the horned beast it had slain. Likely she had magic available, but he’d still have to keep somewhat of an eye on her. He began to walk back down the darkened corridor; her footsteps that had entered with a dozen other pairs now followed alone in his wake.

“You’re the Sergeant, aren’t you?” He mused aloud. It had been a brief thought, crossing his mind as he mulled her pained words over - ‘they were my men’. As soon as the mission had commenced, the Sergeant had yielded control of their squad to him. Without commands to give, it seemed she’d kept quiet during their initial foray into the ruins; he did not recall hearing a woman’s voice.

Her reply was meek yet attentive, “Yes, Sir.”

He supposed that he owed it to her to call her more than just ‘Sergeant’, or ‘woman’, so he asked, “Do you have a name?”

“Elise, Sir.”

“Elise.” He repeated. “With only the two of us, the path ahead will be a struggle from here on. I trust you to watch my back.”

There was a short pause before she responded, “Thank you, Sir. I’ll do my best.”

 

And - she did. Though unarmed and injured, with only spells at her disposal, she fought with vigor, pulled her own weight in fending off the creatures blocking their way. She was agile, perceptive and focused; she said little but her actions spoke for her, her clenched teeth and furrowed brow and guarded posture telling of her resolve, her bravery.

Overshadowed by her men she had not stood out - that, or he hadn’t paid any mind before. Alone, exposed, she was intriguing to watch, when he had a spare moment or two not dealing with any monsters himself. Raw, yet composed - beautiful, almost… _This_ . This was what he wanted, what he _needed_ from those under his command: the will to fight aroused by his words, matched with the skill to make progress.

 

The colossal central chamber was illuminated by bright lights, ancient relics that must have persisted in use for hundreds of years, a stark and blinding contrast to the darkness in the corridors beyond. Near identical in structure to those uncovered in other ruins, and yet there was one significant difference staring them in the face as they entered.

Shielding his eyes from the sudden glare, Kroitz peered up at the monstrosity set in the middle of the chamber floor. Bird-like with a crooked beak and webbed wings stretching from one edge of the room to another, it was statuesque with rough, brown, leathery skin. A corpse? Though, on further inspection (when he edged closer to the centre, straining his neck to look up at the creature) it appeared it hadn’t been dead for very long.

Weary and slightly uneven footsteps belonging to Elise crept up behind him. “What… What _is_ that?”

Kroitz folded his arms pensively and gave it some thought. Nothing like this had been in the other ruins he’d excavated. Monsters tended to congregate in them, yes, but not a giant corpse like the one that stood before them. He could hazard a guess that it ultimately had something to do with the disorder, or the magics surrounding it. Guessing was, in fact, all that he could do at that point. “I expect it’s nothing to worry about.” Turning to face her he shifted the subject along, “Start looking for the fuse. It should be around here somewhere.”

Her back straightened and she lifted her chin before acknowledging his order with a firm salute to her chest. When she moved, she seemed to be fighting the pain in her ankle still; he said nothing regarding it, but as he too began to scour the room for the fuse’s location, he glanced back every so often to check she was still upright.

It wasn’t long until she’d disappeared from view, though he could still hear her footsteps echoing, wandering, before they hurried. “Sir!” She called out, from somewhere above. “There’s something here!”

Pursuing the direction of her voice, he found her on a raised platform at the far end of the room. Sure enough, in front of where she stood was a square-shaped stone inset in the wall, akin to the fuses discovered elsewhere. But - her interest was taken not by the object itself, but by a series of inscriptions on the wall next to it. She ran her fingers over the covering of dirt, squinting at the obscured text.

“Rotations…?” She read quietly, almost below her breath. His eyes followed her hand as it moved over the age-worn lettering. “The… Pinnacle of human evolution…? On the seventh day, it will come…” He was about to tell her to leave it, that similar engravings were commonplace among ruins and hopefully in neutralising the earthquakes and securing the place they’d be able to analyse it properly at a later stage. But then, her words stopped him - and so too did what he saw beneath her fingers. “Quanlee?

Quanlee - that word. The one passed mockingly and in brief around the superiors’ lines of conversation, synonymous with both mystery and futility and utter fantasy. The doctor’s snivelling face came to mind, along with the dawning of the realisation his theory had yet to be proven true - would not be proven true until the fuse was removed at the very least. And with it came the reminder of what Kroitz had so dismissively referred to before as the ‘bridge to be crossed when it was reached’: the idea that the doctor had been using the disorder as a ruse, as a method of furthering his own project. Was that indeed the case, then? Had the doctor simply thrown that theory onto the table with the hopes someone brave or stupid enough would accept it?

A sudden anger burnt within the depths of his chest - and yet it manifested itself as barking laughter. If that meek, reclusive doctor had indeed strung him along like a puppet then the toad-faced bastard was far sharper than he’d expected. And he could only laugh because there was nothing else he could do. His body had been worn out by the foray, a lingering reminder that even he had his limits - and, of course, he did not wish to once more consider taking his frustrations out on the Sergeant, who - startled - returned her attention to him as he cackled. Likely she thought he’d lost it, that the weight of the expedition and everything that had happened to them thus far had snapped him in that moment.

It was something he’d have to deal with later, back at the doctor’s lab - providing the ruins didn’t continue to collapse upon them upon removing the fuse. By that time he might have even calmed down enough that he wouldn’t desire to wring the shrivelled bastard’s neck as soon as he’d catch sight of him.

He inhaled deeply and ran his fingers backwards through his hair. “Thank you, Elise. Go ahead and remove the fuse.”

Unquestioning, she complied. He watched her hands, still ever-so-slightly shaking, grip and pull the fuse from its slot.

And as he’d observed before - nothing happened. The harsh lights continued to beam down upon the chamber. Perhaps the creature’s corpse would somehow rouse, he thought, casting a glance over his shoulder at the room’s centre. No such occurrence. Only, he remembered, just before he was reconsidering what he would say, what he would _do_ to that damned doctor when he came face to face with him again - it wouldn’t be clear the theory was correct until they’d left the ruins.

So they did. Re-emerging after an eternity of retracting the steps the squad had taken forwards, backwards. Into the cold, fresh air. Into the pallid morning light gracing the surrounding steppes and plains, the cracked wasteland and the metals of the upturned, abandoned artillery. Into stillness.

It was unnecessary for them to exchange words, to speak of the obvious. Instead he chose to watch her step into the dawn with her eyes lifted towards the clouded sky. Silent as their surroundings, she wrapped her arms around the fuse, holding it tight to her chest.

The bliss of victory, of progress, filled his veins as deep as the soothing chill of the air. Yet Elise’s convictions were different and when her voice finally broke across the quietness it was as strained and weary and as shattered as the ground around them.

“Everyone… You didn’t die in vain.”

She dropped to her knees, and wept.


	2. Act II

 

* * *

 

**ACT II**

 

The doctor’s face was more God-awful than he remembered, and yet there was no polite way of saying ‘remove that gratified smile before I shove Crimson into an orifice where neither you nor she will want her to go’.

“Congratulations, Lieutenant! I believed you would be successful!” His praise was so high-pitched and blandish that it was hard to take it as genuine because it dripped with such smugness. And Dr. Specto just so happened to be addressing someone incredibly familiar with falsified notions of admiration. If he was going to try playing him at his own damned game he might as well put some effort into it.

“Did you, now?” By contrast, Kroitz didn’t desire to mask the bitterness in his voice at all. His arms were folded as he towered over the doctor, the fuse removed from the Sandworm’s Den tucked tight underneath his left. “You flatter me, Doctor.”

The doctor ran his tongue over his bottom lip in anticipation, eyeing the uncovered edges of the fuse. His fingers curled and uncurled. “Ahh…! You brought it - it’s here! I’ll have it analysed straight away!”

On the one hand, it had indeed been thanks to the doctor that an end had been brought to the earthquakes. He’d been entirely correct in his theory, the ruins were the cause with the fuse as the source. Yet - _how_ he’d been so correct was questionable. And that tied into the engravings found next to the fuse.

Less than forty-eight hours had come and passed since Kroitz and the lone lady Sergeant had emerged from the ruins. Since then he’d barely slept, deliberating on what exactly came next. News of their success was still spreading through the ranks and across the land. With the natural relief and joy there an overlying tone of anguish. Time was taken to mourn the lives claimed by the disaster, in the form of hastily organised ceremonies and mass funerals that Kroitz was expected to trouble himself with despite his ultimate disinterest and belief that his time could be better put to use preparing for another onrush.

His choice was clear - he was going to remove the other fuses, whatever effort it took to do so. But there was something he still needed to know about them: something that the doctor had either not anticipated, or else kept quiet about... The something that threatened to reawaken the urge to ram his fist into the doctor’s ugly face (thus perhaps improving it) every time he mused upon the possibility his efforts thus far had all been part of a ploy.

Slowly, Kroitz unfolded the fuse from below his arm and held it out in casual offerance. Yet as soon as the doctor’s fingers came within an inch of the object he snatched it back, hovering it above his shoulder and admiring the sudden look of alarm upon the doctor’s face, his lips instinctively curling.

“ _Ah-ah_...” He teased, though he made quite sure to keep enough bluntness in his tone to further convey his underlying aggravation. “First - there’s something I need you to clarify.”

With an awkward cough, the doctor adjusted his glasses. “Y-Yes?”

Consequences could well have come with treating a senior official in such a manner. This was a fact he knew well, recalled often, because if he didn’t he would have been removed from duty long ago for badmouthing several of his superiors. Yet then and there, it seemed so frivolous. If there was some kind of small thrill he could take away from this predicament, it was the fact that no matter what the doctor’s intentions had been with the fuse, it wasn’t yet within his possession. And he hadn’t the power to take it.

“What, precisely, does _this_ …” To indicate to the fuse he waved it by flicking his wrist a little. “...Have to do with your pet project?”

The doctor’s throat bobbed as he swallowed; his face twisted into a grimace, beads of sweat glistening on his scarred forehead. “My…” He chuckled uncomfortably. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lieutenant.”

“We found an engraving in the ruins, next to the fuse. One that just so happened to mention…” Kroitz lowered both his voice and his brow. “...‘Quanlee’.”

“Y-You don’t say?” The doctor continued to laugh, his eyes fixated on the fuse. “...Aha! Then this may well be no normal fuse…!” His anxiousness subsided and was replaced by elation. “This! This may be one of the slabs for the gate!”

Was this idiot making a mockery of him? The same anger that had burnt in Kroitz’s chest back at the Sandworm’s Den upon reading the engraving rose again, threatened to spill over if he did not get the response he was looking for. “Are you going to answer my question? I would rather not have to wrench it out of you, Doctor.” He spoke through clenched teeth, the fingers of his free hand twisted tight into a fist. “What is Quanlee? And _how the hell_ do you know about it?”

Either the threat fell upon deaf ears - or, more likely - the doctor was too enthralled by the discovery to care. “Why… Quanlee is the ‘ultimate power’ belonging to the Ancients! It exists below the seal in Locca, never used. All these years, it must have been sitting dormant.” Not once did the leech take his bulging eyes off the fuse. “My life’s work has been dedicated to breaking that seal! A-and now, this slab…”

The disjointed explanation was nothing that Kroitz hadn’t already known through hearsay regarding the doctor. He moved the fuse back into his view, twisting it over a couple of times to give it a brief examination. Certainly, it was larger than the fuses he’d uncovered before, inset with a rounded stone at its core, the assumed source of its power. Moments later and his glower was fixated back on the doctor’s face. “...Just so _coincidentally_ happened to be at the centre of the Disorder.” There was bitterness in his voice as he finished the sentence, and he added with blatant cynicism, “Forgive me for not being nearly as thrilled as you are about this.”

“Thrilled...? You should be ecstatic, Lieutenant!” And then the giggling cretin had the absolute _nerve_ to grab Kroitz’s shoulders as an expression of his joy. “This could prove to be one of the most important scientific discoveries of our time!”

It took all the restraint Kroitz could muster not to smack the man’s hands away. Like the doctor, he had dedicated great amounts of his time and effort into researching the Ancients and pursuing the mysteries surrounding them. And perhaps once more, as he had been about the cause of the disorder, the doctor was right - perhaps the fuse he held in his hand was the key to a significant discovery. But it was not yet enough to convince him he was not being lead along like a mere puppet on a string... He despised that feeling, the feeling that anyone had gained control of him, _used_ him, for any reason they so pleased.

The doctor’s awkward smile began to wane as he stared at the hard look of disdain upon Kroitz’s face. “Ahhh… I-I understand how you must feel, Lieutenant.” He began to shrink again whilst retracting his hands. “That it’s all too convenient?” Then, he fixed his glasses. “B-But I assure you - I had no knowledge that the Disorder was at all connected to Quanlee.”

Worthless words from a worthless man, even if they were the truth. Now that Kroitz had heard that attempt at reassurance he wasn’t sure he’d ever actually wanted it in the first place; rather, his patience had been worn too thin before he’d set foot in the lab.

“Then what do you suppose connects the two, Doctor?”

The whites of the doctor’s teeth glinted as he pulled his lips into another half smile. Nervous and yet gleeful, he answered, “Hmm… Perhaps… Perhaps it is fate?”

Kroitz paused. Then, as he had done back at the ruins, he began to laugh - high and cold and bitter, because it was all he could do. Fate? _Fate_. Of all the damned theories he could’ve come up with on the spot… The doctor had to have been fucking with him.

So he thought - but in reality, it was not so far from the truth.

  


\--

  


Success had never and would never be a ladder. Success was a pillar, tall and lithe and polished, and if one’s fingers slipped so much as an inch they risked the sharp drop, the fall into the pit of failure and agony and shame and despair. Those that survived their collision with rock bottom were then presented with a choice: remain placid amongst the weak, those who had never even begun the climb, those who might as well embrace death before it could embrace them - or clasp the pillar, and start again.

For years, the pillar’s top seemed obscured from view. No matter how far he climbed, his goal moved further and further away. But - what was his goal, really? Glory...? Was that not just another notch upon the pillar, one he had already grasped within his hands? For serving in the war, for his commitment to archaeological studies, for neutralising part of the Disorder. He had achieved so much in the span of a six year career - he was revered as a prodigy by his superiors and subordinates alike. They trusted in him, in his strength, in his capabilities as a tactician and a leader. And he stood alone, unmatched in those regards. In those times of darkness he was their single guiding light.

That alone should have been enough. But it was not. Already, he had made the silent promise to himself: he was going to rebuild their broken world, because he alone was the only one who could.

And for that, he needed to continue the climb.

 

The Supreme General’s silhouette was a dark and bulky frame against the harsh light of his shuttered window. A battle-hardened man, his face and body had been heavily scarred by Arcadian magics during the war. But unlike the doctor, he did not shy away from view; he wore his scars like armour, as proof of his dedication and service. He was a regular sight, milling amongst the halls and corridors of superiors’ quarters (not that he had anything better to do but congregate and make pleasantries with the other commissioned officers). Holding a one-to-one conversation with the man, however, was a rarer occurrence, one that, in this instance, would not have happened had Kroitz’s presence not been requested in his office.

“At ease, Lieutenant.” The General muttered with a wave of his hand, acknowledging the salute he was given.

Kroitz tucked his hands behind his back and stowed as well the instinct to speak without permission. That said, it didn’t seem like the General was too involved in formalities, seeing as how he wandered rather casually towards the desk, facing him with a firm but lopsided smile.

“You don’t look half bad, to say the Sandworm’s Den nearly killed you.”

He supposed. The fall escaping the collapsing chamber had caused bruising on his chest and legs that he’d only started to properly see and feel in the days following the foray, but unless the General had been poking his nose in his recent medical examinations, he wouldn’t know that. Likely he was making a subtle reference to the loss of the squad.

Though Kroitz almost said nothing, he thought better of it, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to do more to protect the men.”

The General made a low mumbling noise in his throat as a response to his words. In a casual manner, he sat with a slight slump in the chair at his desk, folding his hands upon the polished surface. He coughed. “As I’m sure you’ll understand, the aftermath of the operation has caused me to have to make some rather… Difficult decisions.”

 _Ah._ Now, that sentence didn’t particularly bode well. Was he to face disciplinary measures for the loss of the squad? Kroitz frowned at the prospect and lifted an eyebrow, silently questioning the General, though the man’s gaze was still downcast towards his hands.

“That said…” The General began again. “I believe the decisions I have taken are in the best interests of not just the Nortis, but of the whole world.” He rubbed at the corner of his eye. “These… Disasters, this _Disorder_ \- has claimed the lives of so many already…” Looking up and holding Kroitz’s gaze, another faint yet sombre smile crossed his lips. “Now that there is a way to put an end to it, as dangerous as it is, it must be done.” He reached into the breast pocket of his uniform and pulled out a small box. “Therefore, I have chosen to give the responsibility to the person I believe is most capable of success.”

Those words were a lot less harrowing than the ones that had come before. Still, Kroitz wasn’t prepared to jump to conclusions. For all he knew the man would turn around and announce his new C.O. was the lady Sergeant from the mission.

But there was little doubt left when the General opened the box, turning it on the table and sliding it across. The double-starred insignia, inset in gold, glinted in the small flecks of light offered by the window.

“You have my absolute faith in restoring order and safety to the world. Congratulations, Colonel.”

 

\--

 

 _Colonel._ The rank still sounded foreign to him. _Colonel._ That was his C.O.’s rank - _former_ C.O., that was… Now? Now he was his own C.O. - and that of as many men and women as he required for the Elemental Disorder Termination Program. And it had been granted at such a time that there was nothing ceremonious about it; one brief, pragmatic visit to the General’s office and there he was with the entire disorder resting on his shoulders - in name.

Really, he couldn’t have wished for anything better. The entire program was his and no matter the stakes he was determined to prove successful. Already he had drawn up plans to begin a second operation, striking the ruins at the core of the volcanic landscape in the southeastern Arcadian territories. And now he no longer needed permission, any go-ahead from a higher officer. It should have felt liberating, he should have felt as empowered as he was and yet - _and yet_ , there was still a nagging doubt at the back of his mind.

That doctor, and his Quanlee Project. No matter how the neutralisation of the disorder was carried out - the two would be involved, somehow, some way. It was inevitable. And perhaps, he considered with a certain bitter irony, it was indeed ‘fate’.

 

Following the request made for her presence, Sergeant Elise’s C.O. appeared in her place, carrying with him a somewhat unfortunate message regarding her status.

“Her injuries are not physical… Rather, the weight of her losses have had a tremendous effect on her mental well being.” The Major shook his stooped head. “After she first returned, she seemed to be doing quite well. It seems her full comprehension was delayed… She is distraught, the poor thing. I don’t believe she will ever return to service.”

A pity. Elise had shown such promise. She had fought well with death staring her in the face… As well as she could have, it seemed. Kroitz had hoped that involving someone who had already experienced the turmoil of the Disorder would be idyllic, minimising the number of personnel aware of the mysteries presented by the ruins... But now, she was of no use, not even in service elsewhere. _Hm_... Ultimately, it was probably a waste of time having ever saved her life. The rest of her days would be spent in misery and shame. Hugging her knees to her chest and rocking back and forth and muttering nonsense perhaps. The same as the men shellshocked from the war… To be trapped by one’s mind was a pitiful fate. Only when death came for them would they find their release.

He frowned at the thought, but disguised it as a sympathetic response, “My apologies. She was a fine soldier.”

“Yes, well.” The Major motioned for him to follow him down the corridor. “Given the urgency of the situation, I’ve found a suitable officer to serve in her place.” He smiled a bit, though his expression was still rather forlorn from the subject of Elise. “A volunteer, as a matter of fact. Very eager to participate in your program.”

Under normal circumstances, Kroitz would have preferred to have found a replacement himself. In fact, it was somewhat frustrating that the Major had assumed it was fine to do so in his place. What was the point in this program being _his_ , if there were aspects of it beyond his control? But these were not normal circumstances - and, he _did_ need willing participants: those who would follow his command without hesitation, those that would believe in his program, in _him_. As Elise had done… For the most part.

The field beyond Escarre’s barracks was lined with soldiers, perfect rows of straight-backed men with their chins raised and their fists to their chests. Once voice, loud and clear, cut across the stillness of the mid-morning; bellowed commands to which the men instantly adhered.

“ _Right face! March!!_ ”

Above the noise of the stamping boots, the Major spoke with a motion of his hand in their direction, “This is 7th Division, under the command of Lieutenant Diene. She received her rank only recently for her tireless efforts in helping those affected by the Disorder.” With a smile, he nodded, as if to agree with his own words. “You wanted someone dedicated to your cause, didn’t you? She may not have fought at your side like Elise did, but her determination is second to none. She’s a brilliant woman.”

Arms folded, Kroitz leant his weight slightly on the barracks’ door frame, raising an eyebrow at the Major, “...‘Brilliant’, you say?” _Hm_ … They’d said that about him a lot, too. A muted smirk crossed his face. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

After letting out a light laugh, the Major replied, “I’m sure you’ll find her to be quite impressive, Colonel.” He looked out upon the single female figure, who remained alone on the field as her men filed away, still and rigid though her dark hair and the train of her uniform coat drifted in the morning breeze. There was a certain pride upon his face as he continued, “I wouldn’t have put her forward for this position if I didn’t believe she was up to the task. These are difficult times, after all. As for her men, they’re a well-disciplined group, as you can see.”

But it was the Lieutenant herself who needed to be both resolute and disciplined in this regard: she would be the bridge between him and the men… For the most part. His word would be absolute, but he wouldn’t be able to be in several places at once, commanding the number of soldiers needed for the task alone. If this woman was as brilliant as the Major claimed, then she would suffice as his aide. But - only _if_.

 

So, awaiting her return from her morning inspection, he lingered in her office - the door of which, according to the Major, she apparently never locked. That in mind, she looked more surprised than she should have at his presence, shutting the door with care behind herself before raising her head, eyes falling upon him, and nearly jumping out of her skin.

Hand pressed to her chest, she blinked before regaining her composure with a cough, “...May I help you?”

In response to her reaction, a small, humoured smile crossed Kroitz’s face.“You may.” Hands tucked behind his back, he walked from the window to a short distance from where she stood. “Your C.O. tells me you’ve volunteered for the Elemental Disorder Termination Program.” Holding her questioning gaze, he lowered his head a little. “I appreciate your spirit, Lieutenant. I’m here to brief you on what exactly your position will entail.”

“...You’re the…?” She began. Then, with a soft gasp and another shocked look (that she attempted to neutralise) she straightened up and saluted. “...C-Colonel! Yes, Sir! Th-Thank you, Sir!”

Well, she was attentive, he could give her that much.

“At ease.”

Her arm dropped, but she remained tense and stone-faced. Kroitz paced in front of her, eyes locked with hers; he spoke with the intention of gauging her reaction to his words.

“You’re a brave woman for having volunteered, Lieutenant. This operation will not be easy. The Disorder has claimed countless lives, and by participating, you’ll likely be risking your own.” The faintest trace of a smile crossed his lips.“Do you understand? This is not a cleanup op, or civilian patrol. This is the war reborn.”

Her expression was unchanged - though... There was something glinting in her hardened eyes. “Yes, Sir!” She spoke with eagerness, the hands at her sides balling into tight fists. “I understand, Sir! I have read your report back and forth. I understand the dangers present, but there is no other choice. We must carry out your plan.” At that moment, there was a subtle change in her voice; it softened with her eyes, ever so slightly, “I trust in your word and in your judgement, Colonel. I believe this operation to be the sole chance to bring peace to the world.”

Peace…? That seemed to be everyone’s desire, returning to the lull of yesteryear with no reason to take up arms, no reason to strive for honour or glory or progress. Yes - when the Disorder was dealt with, there would be peace… To an extent. It was just another means to an end, a secondary measure. Another notch upon his pillar. A goal that was necessary... But not one he believed to be absolute.

As he kept his gaze trained upon her, he felt the corners of his lips curl up further. There was quiet between them; she seemed to be waiting for a verbal reply from him, and when it was not received her sternness faltered. Lifting a hand to the side of her face, she cast her eyes down, the tips of her ears turning pink.

“With all due respect, Sir… Must you stare like that?”

He laughed below his breath, with a slow shake of his head. “My apologies. It’s been a while since I heard anyone speak of peace.”

She tucked her hands behind her back, not unlike he was doing. “Yes. Though the war is over, the other nations still harbour hostile feelings towards us. Even in the eyes of our civilians, our reputation is tarnished.” Meeting his gaze again with a firm smile, she added, “But… Your project could change that. We could show the world that the Nortis army exists to protect, not to ruin.”

Was that her ambition…? Changing the army’s image? The poor, naive woman... It would never truly matter what people thought of them. Opinions had changed and would continue to change, so long as they worked to stop the Disorder - but it was inconsequential. A strong and resolute army would not concern itself with the distaste of petty and ungrateful civilians, and certainly not when it had enough power at its disposal to crush any and all uprisings. Such measures had been considered, though he did not believe it would happen whilst the Disorder raged on.

 _Hm_. Indeed, naive though her goal was… At least she had something to work towards. Ambitions, and drive. And the will to follow his plan. He could respect that about her. Now - was she as brilliant as the Major had said? The jury was still out on that one. For a Lieutenant she was young, as he had been; she was perhaps a few years younger than him, but no more. Her shoulders were slight and she had a feminine frame, visibly long and well-kempt fingernails, and she wore a light layer of pressed powder and lipstick. It may well have just been because she was off-duty, but she didn’t appear to have been subjected to much combat.

He stowed that thought. What mattered was her willingness to participate. No one else had put herself forward the same way she had. Time would tell if she would live up to the Major’s word.

Contrary to his inner musings he met her smile with a cordial one of his own. “I thank you for your courage and resolve. Please do your best in service of this project.”

Her fist returned to her chest in an uplifted salute. “Sir!”

If brilliance was indeed her forte, then she may not have been what he’d wanted, but… She could have been what he _needed_.

  


\--

  


Escarre’s base ran deep through the land. It was no secret, not to anyone involved with the archaeological or research factions of the army, at least. The Ancients’ gears had been excavated from that area, the magic-imbued artifacts they had reengineered and repurposed. Like the fuses and slabs, the gears were a source of power. Harnessed, the power provided electricity, drove vehicles and artillery; ultimately, their discovery had not only won the war for the Nortis, but bettered their country… Betterments that Arcada, with their staunch belief that the Ancients’ technology was a sacred thing, had yet to embrace.

In his lifetime, Archaeology had turned from a curiosity into a necessity. The relics were not untouchable as the Arcadians believed. They were a call from the past to the future, heirlooms that surpassed generations to be granted to the people of their day - invaluable gifts that should have been embraced. For what good were such items, if they did not put them to use? That belief in impiety, in rejection of progress - that was why Arcada had lost the war. He respected their honour, their adamancy, but that was all there truly was to respect.

The cold depths of the base’s lower floors were host to an array of finds from throughout the lands. Crates of uncovered armouries, ceramic shards, supposed ritualistic items - things that were not useful straight away but were subject to further examinations. But perhaps the most significant of the finds was the original reason behind the base’s expansions: the colossal mural that belonged to the ancient city once upon the site.

Behind doors with rusted bolts, dust-coated chains, the mural rested, untouched by eyes and hands for years. A find that had once incited great excitement, for it depicted an occurrence of a powerful magic flow, reaching from the earth into the heavens… The beacon that Dr. Specto believed would signify the advent of Quanlee.

Was that what the Disorder was? Beacons? Did the Ancients call to their descendents - to _him_ \- to bring Quanlee into existence? Was it… Truly _fate_? The more he thought of the slabs, of the engravings and the body of the beast he'd seen in the central chamber of the Sandworm's Den, the more he began to believe that what was happening to the world was beyond rational thought, beyond the confines of sensibility.

 _Is this what you’ve been trying to tell me?_  He asked silently, fingers tracing the cold stone engraving. _Was I a fool, for believing your power to be naught but the brainchild of a madman?_

Whether those questions had answers or not, he had chosen his path. He would walk it, the very same road the Ancients stepped upon themselves, until he reached the end. Glory awaited him there… Of that - he was certain.

  


\--

  


“Are you married, Colonel?”

If there was anything Kroitz despised more about the complacency of the upper ranks than their tendency to loaf around the borderland strongholds far from the toil of the disorder under the guise that Arcada’s forces may use the troubles to launch a new campaign, it was their use of time - and funds - for frivolous and utterly _useless_ gatherings. None of which had, at the very least, ceremonial purposes, and yet - frustratingly enough - he was _expected_ as one of the commissioned officers to attend all the same. So, too, were many of the higher-ups accompanied to these pompous events by their coiffed and well-dressed wives… Or partners - or, mistresses, all of varying ages that gave indication as to which of those categories they fit under. The woman that had latched her attention onto him this time around was middle-aged, the wife of a Captain serving in a different division to his own.

He flicked his lighter, searing the end of the cigar between his lips. Thick smoke permeated the low-lit room already; the tobacco and alcohol being passed around made the event slightly more bearable, at least. Well - so he thought, until he heard her question. They always asked that, with a certain level of surprise, like a man whose years hadn’t yet reached a quarter of a century should’ve had a woman in his hands rather than a blade. His mildly caustic reply came after he’d exhaled a mouthful of smoke, “To my job, Ma’am.”

She barked with laughter. “What dedication! Then again, it shows - for you to hold such a high rank at such a young age.” Her smiling lips left a stain of coralish red on the rim of her glass and there was a twinge of something vehement and less akin to praise in her tone as she added, “Already, you’ve surpassed my husband…”

And…? Was she envious of that fact? Kroitz snickered through his nose, though he feigned politeness in his response, “The Captain’s years of service have been of exceptional value, Ma’am. I hope one day to be even half as great of a man as he is.”

Her pencil-thin brows lifted. “Hmm…?” After swallowing another mouthful of her drink she laughed again. “My, my. Young _and_ charming. You must break so many hearts.” The dark liquid in her glass swirled with the swish of her wrist. “I’ll be sure to let my husband know you think so highly of him.”

A little later and she spotted a friend of hers amongst a gaggle of other women and Kroitz took this opportunity to slip away from the grip her perfectly-manicured talons were threatening to make on his upper arm. Though he could only wander a few yards before he was called to by another officer and waved over in the direction of his circle.

Halfway though being the subject of the officer’s introductions, he spied the back of slick dark hair and a slight, uniformed frame over the man’s shoulder. He remembered, and he remembered well. Only having become a Lieutenant in recent weeks, the event must have been Diene’s first experience amongst the commissioned officers… And the fact she looked entirely out of place despite holding some manner of a conversation with a couple of finely-dressed young women, rubbing at her forearm in discomfort.

Juggling keeping a trained eye on her, and yet not making that fact obvious, as well as participating in the conversation he himself had been invited into, was neither an easy nor desirable situation. By the time his cigar had burnt down to a stub, she had started to disappear from view, slinking away past the grand doors on the far side of the room.

 _Hm_ … Where did she think she was going? Kroitz mused on that question with wry humour - clearly she wanted to free herself from that droll pedantry more than he did, if she’d actually gone ahead and walked out. A reprimanding comment from her C.O. about etiquette amongst the upper ranks was probably inconsequential to her.

Now - if only he were able to do the same…

He gave it five minutes before tossing the cigar stub into an ashtray and excusing himself from the conversation. By keeping his head down and eye contact non-existent, he managed to slip away from the crowds seemingly unnoticed and through the doors into the cool, dark hallway beyond.

Her silhouette stood before the set of wide arched windows at the base of the hallway’s stairwell, straight-backed, though her head was bowed and her hands were wringing. Apparently she did not hear his footsteps descending the stairs, or perhaps she was just elsewhere, entrenched in her own thoughts, because she only responded with a startled jump when his voice cut across the silence.

“Look alive, Lieutenant.”

Diene turned with her hands held to her chest, as if to calm her heartbeat. “S-Sir!”

Ah - that look upon her face. Eyes widened and lips parted as if she were a child caught stealing sweets. It certainly was a picture, and a rather endearing one at that - one that managed to muster a smirk of amusement from him. Standing before her, he folded his hands behind his back, watching as she dropped her arms to her sides and shrunk a little.

“You seem distracted. Do you feel unwell?”

The surprise faded from her shaded countenance, replaced by a downcast look. She gave her head a gentle shake, her eyes breaking from his gaze. “No, I just... I needed some air.”

“You’re a poor liar.” He told her, though his smirk softened a little.

Lifting her hand again, she slowly covered half her face with it whilst forming the vaguest signs of a grimace. “I…” She sniffed in a breath, the same as she did at the ruins in an attempt to quell her upset. “...Colonel... This...” With a furrowed brow, she flung her hand in the direction of the stairwell. “This gathering - this...  _Charade_ …! Is this really what the commanding officers have been doing, all this time?” With fists clenched at her sides again, she stooped her head, her bangs falling and obscuring her face. “Civilian lives… Nortis, Arcadian, Hazman - we’ve all lost so much to the Disorder…” Sadness overtook her sudden burst of anger as she raised her head again. “Why are the commanders here, enjoying themselves like nothing is wrong, when so many people are suffering?”

She was right, and he often wondered about that fact himself. However, Kroitz said nothing at first - meeting and holding her stare in silence instead. He could not validate her words, as they inferred insolence. Nor could he deny that he held similar convictions. He could almost liken the officers and their consorts to the huddles of animals he’d seen on farms, having lived in the countryside as a boy; clumped together in masses for safety, complacent in their grazing pastures away from the jaws of preying monsters or starving wolves; creatures that stalked in the surrounding forests, waiting for the opportune moment in which the shepherds would turn their backs and allow them to strike. For the greatest of their men had died with the war, leaving behind only those that would rather have comfort and frivolities than glory and progress.

Pathetic, indeed. But - it was of no great concern. Neutralising the Disorder was now _his_ project to control, and his alone.

A low sigh left her mouth. She recoiled with meekness once more. “I-I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have said anything…”

This woman was fascinating. One moment her spirit would rise and burn like wildfire - the next it would fade to ashes and embers and she’d quieten, apologise for her behaviour. Perhaps that was the brilliance the Major had spoken of - that she was sharp and astute underneath her dedication, a rarity amongst the ranks. Men could be rallied in droves with mere words of encouragement, they’d follow their leaders into battle unquestioning, but women had intuition and were not so easily swayed.

“It doesn’t matter what they do.” He told her in earnest, gaining a shocked look from her once more. “Let them have their gatherings. There’s nothing to be done about it.” _Out here, they’re out of my way. I can operate without their interference._

“...But, I…”

“I understand your anger, your pain. Take them and let them drive you. Put them into your work to stop the Disorder.”

Beyond the window there was nothing but the empty night. What slight glow from the moon seeped down and fell upon the dark strands of her hair, pooled in the glass of her eyes. She was not excessively beautiful… But, she was lovely, in her own way.

He reached out his hand, to place it upon her shoulder, but touched down upon her collarbone instead. Beneath him, she froze.

A light smile crossed his face. “You are the apex of the army. Never forget that.”

And he closed the gap between their lips. Slid the tips of his fingers through the softness of her hair. Felt the warmth of her loosening body press into his.

And witnessed, not unlike he had many years ago, the wolf’s jaws snap shut.


	3. Act III

* * *

 

**ACT III**

 

Plans were written, scratched out, written and rewritten again. By the time a solid starting point for the Elemental Disorder Termination Program was complete, the nib of Kroitz’s pen had worn down and split.

He tossed a copy onto the doctor’s desk rather flippantly, stepping back and watching the man’s beady eyes give it a pondering glance.

“I have an offer for you, Doctor.”

The days and nights spent deliberating the plan of action had not been easy. For one - working with Dr. Specto was inevitable. The expertise of the Science Department would be vital to the studies of the ruins, the cause of the Disorder and what could be changed to prevent such horrors happening again. Well… Those were the reasons upon the surface. The noble reasons that would be presented to the forces and to the masses - and they were not falsified, but there was something else to be gained from the troubles. Something that Kroitz had dwelled upon since his last meeting with the doctor.

Fingers pulling the papers towards himself, the doctor lifted his eyes and gave him one of his twisted smiles, as if he already knew what was going to be suggested. “Yes, Lieutenant?” He paused to adjust his glasses. “Ah - excuse me -  _ Colonel _ ...?”

Kroitz ignored the rising feeling of irritation he continued to feel for the other man and, folding his hands behind his back, continued to fake courtesy,  “As the Commander of the Elemental Disorder Termination Program, any and all artefacts obtained from the ruins during surveillance will be my property - including the supposed keys you refer to as ‘slabs’...” The corners of his lips curled upwards. “...As well as that which you call ‘Quanlee’. However, as far as research and analysis goes, you may do as you please with these items.”

The doctor looked stupefied, his smile dropping into an open-mouthed gape for a few prolonged moments. “A-Ahh… Does this mean what I think it does? Colonel... Are you going to pursue Quanlee?”

So, too, had he presented himself with that question, over and over like a mantra until he had been entirely certain that what was going to be the most significant gamble he’d ever take would be worth it. For the glory he desired would not present itself with quelling the Disorder alone… It would come only if he grasped within his hands the ability to change - to  _ rebuild _ the world. Already, he wielded the power of the Ancients - Crimson was proof that he had deemed himself worthy of their legacy. But their greatest weapon - the supposed ultimate power of the mightiest civilisation to have ever graced their planet… The doctor had been correct, it would be a significant discovery - and yet,  _ and yet _ it was inconsequential unless it could be put to use.

He was a Colonel and a Commander at twenty-three. He had brushed the tip of the pillar with his fingertips; he had tasted greatness and wanted more, craved it like the air he needed to breathe.

He would have the world, or he would die trying.

 

\--

 

Contrarily, the forty-eight hours after the failed attempt at breaking into the Inferno Pit were ones he spent tasting  _ defeat _ . A fleeting defeat, a mere setback that could be rectified, but a defeat all the same. And it tasted like… Charcoal. He’d been coughing up his damned lungs and what must have been half the volcanic ash spat into the burning air on the approach towards the ruins. If there was anything more sore than his mood it was the rawness of his throat.

Twelve tanks lost, when the land had split and dropped them into the bubbling sea of lava below. Forty men. The first official stretch of his program and all it had amounted to was complete and utter failure.

“Mmm… It doesn’t look like there’s any lasting damage.” The medic had said, pressing on his tongue with a stick and examining his throat with her torchlight. “The medicine I gave you should help with the pain… But I’d recommend you refrain from smoking for a while, too.”

She left his quarters with little more to say. The very next moment and there was cigarette between his teeth and his lighter in hand.

To make matters worse, news of the incident had already been wired to the General. His reply was prompt and trickled through the barracks until it was relayed to Kroitz through a young, doe-eyed Private who faltered and juggled with his papers. He spilt them over, and dropped at Kroitz’s feet to clear them up, whimpering awkwardly, all before he actually managed to say anything.

Unimpressed, Kroitz flicked the end of his cigarette.  “Not for nothing, Private, but the last time a man knelt at my boots like that, he was licking them clean.”

After pausing and looking mildly horrified, the boy stammered, clutching the papers tight in his hands, crumpling them in the process. Rolling his eyes, Kroitz leant down and grabbed the Private by the scruff of his collar.

“That was a joke.” He told him, though not with much reassurance, as he pulled the boy to his wobbling feet. Once he was mostly upright, his array of report papers clutched by his arms to his chest, Kroitz patted him on the cheek.  “When you’re done gaping like a dead fish, give me the report.”

The boy’s eyes darted about, his face flushed and his mouth running garbled nonsense. Not a joke he’d taken very well… The flustered reaction he received was more amusing, anyway. By the time he had calmed down enough to form an intelligible reply, Kroitz was already lighting up his second cigarette of the sitting.

“Uhm… Th-The General has requested, S-Sir... That… That the next attempt is made with great care and... M-Minimal casualties.”

_ All that effort of poking his damned nose into my business just to tell me to be more careful. _ Kroitz gave the boy a disdainful frown.  “Is that all?”

“O-Oh… No, Sir - uhm.” The Private shuffled through his papers, pulling a specific page out and handing it over. “In accordance with the General’s wishes, Dr. Specto has a-already made amends to the plans…”

If there was anything that the boy could have said to further ruin Kroitz’s overall mood (that had only been  _ mildly _ lightened by the jab he’d taken at him) - that was it. After taking a moment to pause and process if he had heard right, he narrowed his eyes and hissed,  “ _ What _ …!?” The burning smoke of his cigarette scratched the rawness of his throat and he let out a few restrained coughs, trying his absolute best to swallow it down and not to have a damned choking fit in front of the Private. Wincing, he snatched the paper up and turned towards the light to read it over. His eyes skimmed over most of the doctor’s hand-scribbled tripe until the reached a certain line,  _ ‘Following the Supreme General’s request, arrangements have been made for external aid’ _ ... What the hell did  _ that _ mean? He snapped his head back in the Private’s direction.  “...And just  _ who _ gave him permission to do this?”

The Private shifted his weight between his feet nervously. “I-I believe the doctor did so by his own initiative, Sir.”

Crinkling the paper with how tight of a fist he was forming around it, Kroitz took another long drag of his cigarette to quell his anger, lest he end up taking it out on the boy.  “Get me the doctor.” He reconsidered that the moment the demand had left his mouth and grunted,  “ _ No _ . On second thoughts, I don’t want to see his disgusting face right now. Get me Lieutenant Diene. And be quick about it.” He dismissed him with a wave of his hand, eyes flicking back through the paper after the Private had given his sloppy salute of acknowledgement and scurried off.

‘External aid’... Ah - it appeared Specto had been decent enough to include further details of his amendments, though that fact alone didn’t cause Kroitz to want to ram the doctor’s ugly nose in. He was the director of this campaign - no one, not even the head of the Science Department - had any right to change his plans without his approval.

_ ‘Local census records have identified a Geo Ranger capable of armed combat within the southern Nortis territories. A notice of conscription has been issued.’ _

...He held that thought. Longer than he perhaps should have. For all the doctor’s faults, for his audacity to have meddled with his authority… The conscription of a Geo Ranger was not such a bad idea.

Perhaps -  _ perhaps _ \- there was even a way they could make it work...

  
  


\--

  
  


Drafting the Ranger in had, ultimately, altered the plans to a far greater degree than anticipated. No longer did the program involve the army alone. Chewing Specto’s ear off for disobedience before rewriting the route forwards was just the beginning. For in their troubles there was opportunity.

More controversial than dragging a lone Nortis civilian into the danger was the request made for further aid from Arcada and Hazma.  _ ‘We wish to rekindle relations with the other nations.’ _ The telegram had read.  _ ‘Working together, we can bring an end to the destruction caused by the disorder. Please send volunteers to assist us’ _ ...

Hazma lacked a formal group of armed personnel, but their response was cordial. Two warriors were willing to provide service. Arcada was not so eager. In a delayed reply, curt and to the point, they spoke of a lone Knight and his civilian companion on route to Locca.

It was good enough… One Arcadian by himself was all they needed… One man to be lured into the web of amity and cooperation. For the relations with Arcada were still so very fragile, though their forces had been minimised, like worn glass the peace could shatter with great ease.

The war had not truly ended… A battle was not over until the enemy was slain. And like a battered animal escaping its hunter, clawing itself bloodied and broken away from the wolf’s jaws, Arcada had escaped with a truce.

He still did not hold the authority to invoke war, himself. But he could sow the seeds of division, incite the anger within the Knight and send him back to Arcada knowing the Nortis had used him. As soon as the disorder was neutralised, Quanlee would be obtained - the power of the Ancients, that which the Arcadians believed sacred, not to be harnessed by human hands… Foolish remarks from a foolish people. His worth was already proven. And whether Arcada began the conflict anew, or sat back and waited for their downfall, the power of the Ancients would win him their territory. Without it, he could not take their dying world and rebuild it in his design.

And there would be peace, someday… Someday, when the world was his. This was to be his fate.

  
  


\--

 

  
Diene often left the door to her quarters unlocked for a reason, whichever of the bases she was present at. Though she liked to present herself as guarded, as stern and authoritarian to those under her command she did not detach herself from them. Her men were free to seek her out whenever they needed to. They trusted her word, her guidance.

One only had to watch her with her men, those she would command and mentor with a strong exterior, and yet treat as well with a certain warmth, not unlike how a mother hen would brood over her chicks... It was easy, then, to see the side of the woman she kept under wraps for the purpose of formalities, not because she wanted to.

_ ‘You are the apex of the army. Never forget that’ _ . His words had been to raise her spirits, settle the futile disdain she had held for the upper ranks back then. But - they had not been falsified.

After that night he had met with her, again and again, more times than he’d cared to count; behind closed doors, away from prying eyes and suspicion.  _ Again  _ and  _ again _ , he had touched the curves of her body, kissed her lips and cheeks and neck… Fed her sweet lie after lie after lie, promises of hope and dreams and the future of the project and of the country, until she looked at him like no one ever had before... Until he was certain she would follow him to the ends of the world. Until she had become a perfect cog in the machine of his design.

Until the beauty of her dedication to him, and to her own ambitions - though they were detached from the truth of his own - caused him to doubt the resilience of his heart. Until he had fallen for her, as she had for him.

So there was little reluctance Kroitz felt, slipping without invitation through her unlocked door after dark. He found her lain with her face and arms resting on her desk, slumped forwards in her seat and slumbering over the papers she must have been working on before passing out… Her fingers still held onto the pen she was using; its ink had seeped a navy-blue hole into the white page beneath her. Last time he’d caught someone sleeping over their paperwork he’d pinched them awake and told them to finish before he’d send them to bed in the stockade… That thought was one he held with a certain wry humour, taking the pen from her loose hold after creeping quietly to her side. Briefly, he eyed what she had written last, in handwriting that grew worse with each line;

_ ‘Continual refusal by the Geo Ranger to respond to conscription letters have resulted in further measures to be taken. My team and I will depart for the Ranger’s home as soon as possible to discuss the…’ _

And then the ink blot cut it off. He sighed through his nose, making a mental note of the words. Were there really so few Rangers left in the world, that the only choice was to drag an unwilling one into the program by the scruff of their neck?

For a moment, he closed his eyes in thought… Rangers were indeed a rarity. But, back where he’d grown up, all those miles away in the southern forested borderlands, he’d known two of them - a father and son, both of whom reasonably fit the description of the person spoken of in the reports. A Ranger’s skills could not be taught, only developed; the power to shift Geostreams and teleport people through them was one passed down through generations of the few bloodlines to be blessed by the Spirits.

He was prone to thinking of his childhood home, particularly when he found he had too much time to spend  _ thinking _ and not acting. Just the briefest of thoughts would leave a sour taste in his mouth. As keen as he was to bear in mind his past, to realise every hardship that had befallen him had molded him into who he was, it was an internal struggle… One he could only ever, and would only ever, contemplate alone… If he even allowed himself that.

Even trying to recall the Ranger stirred unpleasantries within him. The man had loved his son dearly, treated him like he was greatest gift the Spirits could have ever granted him… Was that not how all fathers should have acted? Kroitz was so very, very young when he had first asked himself that… Too young to have truly realised the weight of the question.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling deep and casting away the thought along with the breath before it ignited the soreness and ire it tended to. Diene quietly mewled and shifted a little, though she didn’t rouse, and it brought him back to the present with a lopsided smile. He touched the tips of his fingers to the bangs of her hair, brushing them aside to gaze upon the peacefulness of her slumbering face. Her dark eyelashes caressed her cheeks, her red-stained lips were parted ever-so-slightly and her skin glowed in the low amber light of her desk lamp. With care taken not to wake her, he slid one arm around her shoulders and the other beneath her legs. Cradled like this, she looked less like a soldier and more like a porcelain doll, tranquil and weightless and ornate and so fragile that his touch alone might have been enough to break her.

_ I need you _ , the voice in his mind told her. Soft words he had whispered into her ears many a time, where he’d indulge in the moment of infatuation that would take her over before he’d step back and follow it up with, ‘I can’t continue this project without your efforts’, almost teasingly, because it would leave her nodding along whilst trying to guard the crestfallen look upon her face.

Yet… It was the truth. Truer than most of the things he allowed her to know. Though perhaps one day, he considered as he carried her limp body to her dorm - one day, somewhere along the line, he would speak to her of days gone by; of the tiny forest village he’d once known as his home, of his childhood and the anguish, the pain and the bitter and ironic nostalgia that still gripped him…

...And of a boy and his father, who had lived each day carefree, joy in their smiles and the Sun in their eyes.


	4. Act IV

* * *

 

**ACT IV**

 

_[“What you want doesn’t matter. When you understand your position, come and talk to me.”]_

_[“So, what’s up with this!? How come I have to listen to what this snot-nosed punk tells me!?”]_

_[“Still, our army looks serious this time. It may be just to improve its image, but it’s not a bad plan.”]_

_[“So you’re saying the ruins are stirring up the Elemental Spirits and causing all this craziness? Bullshit!”]_

 

Personnel had been working non-stop since the removal of the slab to secure the Sandworm’s Den. Bringing the earthquakes to an end had been the priority, but there was still much to be done in terms of surveillance of the ruins. The extraction of the winged beast from the central chamber had been of particular interest - the Science Department had run several tests upon the creature already, concluding that it had been a manifestation of the Elemental energy emitted from the ruins. Their firmest and most resolute theory was that it was a failed experiment, of an attempt by the Ancients to control the Elemental Spirits. Its colossal corpse was prodded and poked in the depths of the base at Escarre as the scientists racked their brains to find answers to the questions it had posed.

Anyone willing to study the murals and engravings excavated alongside the corpse, of the beings known as Quanlee and Evol close enough... Anyone who could truly believe in their greatness, their _value_ \- would have thought the superiors narrow-minded… Short-sighted... Outright _idiotic_ , for having ever dismissed it all as outright fantasy. A discovery of an incredible magnitude and unspeakable worth was inches from their fingertips and all they needed was to build the key to the locked door. He, too, had been the same - detached and ignorant, just another pawn in the works... Another complacent officer of a disgraced army - another bird in their gilded cage.

And then he had broken free.

But that day, the day that the Elemental Disorder Termination Program - and, by consequence, the Quanlee Project - finally began to lift off with a certain level of efficiency, Kroitz’s presence was not required for surveyance or archaeological reasons. Rather, it was to meet with the participating Ranger and the soldiers assigned to accompany them, to allow them a visual understanding of the ruins’ central chambers and how the slabs were to be removed. Otherwise, he’d be sending them in as blind as he had been. And - as per the General’s wishes - minimal casualties were desirable. Whether or not that ended up being the case in the end was entirely down to the Ranger and their entourage themselves. If their team failed as many army squadrons had before them… Well, that would be more blood spilt upon Nortis hands - only this time, it would be that of civilians. Rather a large gamble for the pursuit of the Ancients’ ultimate power, if one were to look at it like that.

Though the months since he had last stepped through those ruins had been challenging, toiling at times, they seemed to have come and passed in a flash. It was almost hard to believe he’d still only been a Lieutenant when he’d come to claimed the slab, that he’d barely escaped from the place with his life in tact. The day he’d been told in brief that the bodies of the failed squad had been exhumed seemed like it had taken place years and years ago.

Now, he only had to pass a soldier by to stop them in their tracks and gain a straight back and a dutiful salute. Every man and woman under his command revered him, his efforts and his leadership. Their eyes and voices were gracious; they believed in the project and trusted in him greatly… Perhaps blindly, even.

He had their full support; thousands of personnel, hordes of artillery. He had everything he needed for the entirety of his plan… It was now just a matter of getting the Ranger on board - and, waiting. Waiting, to see if his gamble had paid off - to see if there truly was an ‘ultimate power’ of the Ancients at the heart of the Disorder.

To his inward disapproval, his chances felt slashed, when he stepped into the chamber - that which had since been dubbed ‘the Spiritual Atrium’ - to meet with the entourage. As he probed a trailing Specto on the exact whereabouts of one of his units, a startled voice, youthful and uncannily familiar, caught Kroitz’s attention, diverting it to the lone, nonuniform figure present.

“Huh? Kroitz!? What the hell are _you_ doing here!?”

... _Hm_. How long had it been since someone - other than Diene - had used his name without a rank attached to it?

His eyes locked onto another pair, as familiar as the voice they accompanied, blue as the overcast sea at dawn, rounded and callow and bright and suddenly glinting with inflamed anger. Before him stood the boy from his memories, and for a moment he paused with his breath hitching in his throat as a stinging sensation ran through him. Though he had prepared himself for this possibility he hadn’t quite believed that it would actually happen, that the Ranger’s son would be staring him in the face that day. Though, he was… No longer a boy, not really. Taller, stockier - somehow, almost in the image of his father. But still the same steel-blue hair and eyes, the same snarling face that he’d looked upon many a time… As he swallowed down the breath and guarded it with a smirk he almost felt inclined to feel a contrived sense of fondness, if only for the nostalgia stirred by that angered face and voice.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Evann.” Kroitz laughed a little in the back of his throat, and added, “So, the Ranger mentioned in the report was you.” He walked on, past the boy and his accompanying Sergeants, unperturbed by the several pairs of eyes glancing between the two of them. Without breaking their shared gaze he mused aloud, watching for the look his words would create upon his face, “Well, we do need a Ranger. It’s just... I was hoping for a real one.”

There it was. Evann’s jaw dropped like a stone. They were no longer children, but it seemed the years had changed very little else. With his amused smirk broadening at the sight, Kroitz stepped past and turned his back to him.

“Hey!” Evann huffed. “What do you mean by that!?”

The female soldier flanking the boy, a blonde woman whose name escaped him, spoke up, “Evann! Relax a little.”

The name of the tall male soldier with them couldn’t be placed either, though he addressed Kroitz as if they may have met before somewhere… Hadn’t Diene mentioned something about having brought the two of them in from further afield?

“Colonel, do you know this little twerp?”

Evann cut in before Kroitz could say anything about that even if he wanted to, sounding thoroughly unimpressed, “‘Colonel’? Who’d you have to step on to reach _that_ rank? I can’t fathom your career as anything less than corrupt.”

Ignoring him, Kroitz turned to face their group again, his chin raised and his hands folded behind his back. “Welcome, everyone. I thank you for taking part in this operation.” He glanced between the two Sergeants to address them. “This operation’s sole purpose is to neutralise the Disorder. It has taken many lives and threatened our existence.” The same words that had left his mouth over and over. Refined. Practised. And yet the soldiers looked upon him with the same fixation in their eyes as their colleagues. He could have throughly lied - or he could’ve told them the absolute truth about the Quanlee Project, and either way, they’d have taken up arms on his command. The sheer thought alone was enthralling… Did the Supreme General even garner this much respect? His voice rose with his heartbeat,“The war with Arcada is over, my friends, and now is the time to unite! My magnificent Nortis Army will devote its talent to aiding those afflicted by the Elemental Disorder!”

His eyes met with Evann’s again, as he barked out harsh and false laughter with his hands on his hips. “Same as always, stirring up a crowd! You don’t fool me!” And the very next second, his expression dropped back to anger. “You’re a peddler of lies!” He spat. “Come on, Kroitz, why don’t you fill us in on what you’re really up to?”

 _Ah, Evann. Evann, Evann, Evann._ Still the same whiny child in many ways, but - well, he had to give him some credit. He’d learnt perception, for one... Or, perhaps it was just that any trust between the two of them had long been lost and the years had done nothing to repair that.

“Silly boy.” Kroitz taunted, deflecting the question. “So wrapped up in your emotions, you lose sight of opportunity. Is whining your idea of maturity? You can’t grasp the situation or make a decision, and you’re constantly complaining. How pathetic!”

With that, the boy recoiled, grunting through clenched teeth. _Better_. Though he still didn’t look ready to fall in line with his entourage… He always had been stupidly stubborn, after all. Kroitz offered him a knowing smile, though he continued to appear just as unhappy with the whole thing as ever.

“Anyhow, we’re losing time. Even now people are suffering from the Disorder.” He glanced over his shoulder at the doctor. “Specto, take it from here.”

“Yes, well, ahem. We do not yet know what the ancient people had in mind when they constructed these ruins.” Specto spoke clearly enough that his voice could be heard across the room, even as he clambered the walkway to the upper area. The engraving had been removed with the beast’s corpse for analysis, but the slab’s original useage point remained. “We do know that they were attempting to control the Elemental forces. Furthermore, this very room, which we call the ‘Spiritual Atrium’, is the core of these ruins.” He lifted the claimed slab to show it to the entourage. “This may look like a simple slab, but it was buried here and acted as a fuse to set off the Elemental force. When we removed the slab, the Disorder was neutralised in this area, revealing this item’s special function.”

 _‘We’_ , the snivelling bastard said with a self-assured smile, as if he had actually done any of the work himself. Fighting the urge to roll his eyes - or, worse, actually make a comment on that - Kroitz spoke to the Sergeants again, “The point is, the ruins at the centre of the other Disorders should have similar systems. I want you to use your elite power to remove the slabs from the remaining three ruins and neutralise the Disorders.”

“Yes, Sir!” The male Sergeant threw a fist to his chest in salute at once. “Your humble servant, Brandol, will carry out this plan with great pride, Sir!”

The blonde woman did the same. “It is an honour and a privilege for me to be able to take part in your plan, Sir!”

And Evann, who had stood between the two of them for a surprising period of relative silence, threw his head back in mocking laughter again. “I seriously doubt that’s what you’re really doing. It’s ridiculous! What business does the army have with this kind of thing, anyway?”

Was this their only choice…? Was Evann truly the only Geo Ranger suitable for the task? Whether or not he was skilled enough had little bearing when he was already disinterested. What of his father?

Well, it appeared they would have to make do. _Hm_ . Perhaps Kroitz would have to tread with more care than he’d thought, lest the boy catch onto the extension of the plan before all four slabs had been obtained. But… Given the resolve of the Sergeants, they would proceed, even if Evann wouldn’t. And perhaps, someday, when everything was over and done with, even _he_ could be made to see sense.

Standing before him, his slouched posture was a stark contrast to the surrounding personnel. Even as Kroitz towered above him, as he always had, as he likely always would, Evann didn’t make a single effort to look at all agreeable.

So, with a lowered tone of voice, Kroitz asked him, “When do you plan on growing up, Evann?” Without waiting for an answer he knew wouldn’t come, he added, “Take a look around you. This operation will bring peace to the world.”

Remarkably, the boy did straighten up a bit at that, hands dangling by his side as he crinkled his nose in disdain.

“Anyway, your Commanding Officer is Diene. If you have a problem, speak to her. Reinforcing members should be waiting above. Join with them and proceed with the plan.”

‘I don’t believe a single word that’s leaving your damned mouth’, is what Evann’s expression read, is what he probably would have said if he hadn’t already been talked down. Kroitz held his gaze once more as he wandered back past him.

“Oh, and one more thing: peace is the army’s objective. Don’t ever forget that.”

  


\--

  


Three years before, when the war was still raging on, Kroitz had returned to his homeland, the slumbering village in the forested southern territories, miles and miles away from the madness of the frontlines. Not simply to visit as part of a period of leave, not even to offer military aid to the area. He had been summoned by a hasty and morbid letter for a single purpose: to lay his mother to rest.

Every single moment he spent there he _hated_. He hated everything about the situation, he hated that he was the one expected to deal with it when he was supposed to be far, far away in battle - and he hated the place itself; that just the sight of a tiny, quiet and insignificant place, its sun-dappled dirt roads and gravel paths and wooden lodges, the scent of pine and the taste of fresh morning dew, could stir such foul memories.

And - most of all - he hated the people that lived there. The same idle, contented souls that he’d left behind when he’d gone off to war. Anguished eyes that looked upon him with contempt, mouths that whispered with judgement. As if his absence was the cause of his mother’s death, as if they didn’t know, had never known, the real reason.

Women surrounded the bed upon which her shrouded body lay. A dozen of them, friends and associates and her assistant amongst them. Some knelt and muttered prayers between their fits of weeping. Others were silent. They were all unwelcome in this place, what had once been his mother’s surgery, his old home… But - he found himself too beyond caring to dismiss them. Too numbed by the appearance of the hollow face, bruised lips and arms upon ashen skin and the long violet hair that he looked upon when the assistant pulled back the shroud.

Because when that sight took ahold of him, he could do nothing but stand there and realise that his long-suppressed fears were a reality. In that moment, he was no longer an elite soldier or a war hero, the Ace of the Nortis Army, one who clambered over the dead day by day to fight on; he was no longer a man with a heart of steel, but a small and terrified little boy.

He could only deal with it the same way he always had. Stone-faced. Resolute. He clenched his fists and swallowed them lump in his throat and disguised any and all vulnerability that may have become apparent. _Allow yourself to display even the slightest hint of weakness, and your enemy has won._ So he told himself when he looked across the battlefield and into the faceless droves of Arcadians. This was not the war, but it was a struggle in itself.

“Where is my father?” He asked the assistant as she covered Mother’s face with the shroud once again.

She shook her head, slowly and grimly. “No one has seen him in a week...”

 _Of course not._ So, Father had finally gone and done it; murdered his wife in a drunken stupor and then fled the scene before he could be caught… What a damned disgrace. A certain sickness writhed in the pit of Kroitz’s stomach and he fought to keep it as masked as the rest of his thoughts. But... It was so very, very difficult, when every moment his eyes spent lingering upon that white shroud was a reminder it was his _own mother_ , the very flesh and blood from which he himself had been made, that lay there, the victim of a battle she had never wanted to fight… A victim of circumstance, of _fate_.

His nails dug into his palms but, with firmness, he told the assistant, “Do what you must.” And to that, he turned on his heel and left.

 

“Where are you going, Kroitz?”

The Ranger’s voice dripped with a sombre compassion that was neither wanted nor appreciated. Hastened footsteps paced the gravel path in pursuit of his own.

Kroitz stalled, but did not look behind him. “Back to the front lines.” Was his matter-of-fact answer. There was nowhere else to go, after all. “I’d rather not leave my colleagues waiting any longer.”

A warm weight pressed onto his shoulder, causing him to tense. Quietness fell, save for the birdsong carried by a light morning breeze.

“I’m sorry.” The man said. “Anri was the best healer the village ever had.” He sucked in a short breath. “If… If only I’d have known…”

With the anger and sickness re-emerging, incited by worthless words alone, Kroitz shrugged the hand off his shoulder and began to walk again.

“I know it’s hard.” The Ranger persisted, his voice growing louder and more strained with each word. “I know. I know! Believe me… When…” He sighed, then. “When Evann’s mother died, I too thought that if I wasn’t strong, that--”

“Leave me be.”

The footsteps came again.

“...Not one of us knew. Believe me. And you…” He managed to catch up, and stepped in front of him to block his path, both his hands now on his shoulders with a pained frown upon his face. “...You were always… Out in the woodland, training, or getting into fights with the other boys… So we…” His head dropped and he spoke through gritted teeth. “...We never thought you were hurt from anything else.”

How dare he... _How fucking dare_ he stand there and spew all that with such disgusting humility like his words and sorrow were worth anything? All those ‘ifs’ and ‘we could haves’... Nothing gave him the right. The anger burnt through his veins like fire and manifested along with the lone memory of this man and his beloved son as a twisted grimace and a grip around the sabre at his waist.

Blinded by the sudden rage, he lapsed, laid down at once the resolute facade he had tried to keep up because all of a sudden it was impossible.

“ _Hah_! Bullshit! I know damn well you all knew what my father was like. But you didn’t want the trouble of getting involved, did you? You let it all pass you by without a care in the world. You ignorant son of a bitch.”

The Ranger looked him in the eye again, hands squeezing his shoulders. “No, that’s not true at all… You poor boy…” He muttered bleakly.

“Unhand me.”

“Please forgive us.”

Kroitz whisked out his blade and pressed the edge above the hilt into the skin of the Ranger’s throat. Though the man did not recoil, he dropped his arms, as had been demanded of him.

“Save your self-righteous pity. I don’t want it. It means nothing to me.” He spat into his face. “Do you hear me? _Nothing!_ ”

A hefty collision rammed into the side of Kroitz’s ribcage, from a force that seemed to have come out of nowhere. He tumbled to the ground with the weight upon him, landing with grunt on his back, catching sight of the assailant’s enraged face a split second before their fist swung backwards with a raw outcry.

“You bastard!!”

Where Evann had appeared from, or if he had been present with his father and had simply kept quiet until then, Kroitz didn’t know. Nor did he care. The little shit had caught him off guard, either way. He might have even been impressed if he wasn’t about to have his face smacked by the screaming boy hunched over him.

“You _conceited bastard_!!”

Kroitz whipped his hand in front of his face to guard from the punch before it could hit, grasping tight around the fist to stop him drawing it back again. But Evann simply flailed his non-dominant hand around in the same way instead and Kroitz was forced to release the hold he had on his blade to block that attack in the same way.

“Why did you even come back!? All you’re good for here is talking trash and making people feel like shit!!” The boy yelled, loud enough that it made Kroitz wince. “You… You won’t even stay to lay your mother to rest!! You selfish...” He fought to free his hands. “...Arrogant…”

“ _Evann_!!” The Ranger’s voice cut through the outburst.

Scrunching his face up, Evann stalled. Kroitz frowned up at him, midway through bitterly musing on how much this stupid kid had probably dirtied up his fucking uniform by tackling him over, when he felt warm droplets fall onto his face.

Shoulders shaking, with anguish or anger, or both, Evann sobbed pathetically, “I hate you! I h-hope you go and I never have to see you again! I hope you die in the war!!”

Something twinged in the depths of Kroitz’s chest. Sentiment, or pity, maybe; whatever it was, it was not the disgust he wanted. The words that the boy spouted were meaningless, as hollow as his disdain for Kroitz had always been, meager and petty and childish. Nothing he hadn’t heard from him before. Yet the agony on his face and the wet tears flickering in his eyelashes were real, enough that it could stir something in his soul, the depths of his heart that he believed had been hardened long ago and he was now trying so very, very hard not to allow to ache.

Was it… Empathy? Compassion, for this… Idiot boy he’d only ever felt irritation towards before? He was clingy in his younger days, naive and headstrong; he’d only really ever been worth fighting with to make a point of beating. Every day he’d stumble home with his knocked knees and skinned knuckles, yet he’d always be back the next, with his spirited tongue lashings, fire in his lungs and the Sun in his eyes.

‘It’s because he looks up to you.’ Mother had explained many years before, smoothing out his hair and fixing his askew collar with that fond smile she’d wear as a facade. ‘He wants to be as good as you are at sparring. He’s just trying to learn from you, so… Do try to be a little nicer sometimes, alright?’

And Kroitz would consider it in earnest, if only because it was Mother who was asking. Until, he’d remember that the home Evann would drag himself back at the end of the day was his father’s loving embrace, warm and welcoming and simple and devoid of hardship. Not the sight of a rotten, half-drunken pig twisting his dirty hands into Mother’s clothes, cracking her face against her work table until it bled scarlet streams and bruised the same violet of their hair. Not the feeling of those same fingers clawing into his own scalp and spitting reprimanding words - of how he was a disappointment, a failure, born unwanted from a loveless marriage - until Mother’s voice would beg, beg for him to stop, beg for him to turn back on her instead. The vice-like grip that had clenched around his heart and turned it to stone.

When he looked at Evann he saw what he might’ve become, in another life. A weak and contented boy, naive and pathetic. But simple, unshackled. And he hated it, hated that convoluted envy that made him almost glad that Father’s actions had moulded him into the man he was... He hated everything about this home of his because everything amounted to him having to consider those conflicting feelings. Sword in hand upon the battlefield he was victory and greatness incarnate, a war machine with a one-track mind, and the eyes that looked upon him were filled with awe or terror or both. But in that little village of theirs, he was naught but the healer’s son, a troubled young soul with bruised eyes and bloodied lips, worthy of pity and care, if only in retrospect. No matter how many battles he won or how many honours were bestowed upon his name - that was all he would ever be to them.

Just a boy.

  


\--

  


_What are you, really?_

The winged corpse would never answer his question, not even with all the tests being run upon its mighty form. He kept watch as the scientists scurried about the lab floor, back and forth from the beast and their work tables with samples and testing fluids and papers etched with their findings... Sharp and prompt and attentive, they seemed to work better knowing he was watching, somehow. Yet he wasn’t as concerned with the sight of them as his presence lead them to believe. Instead his eyes were upon the corpse, who silently he asked still, theorising in his mind what the Ancients may or may not have intended to do with the magics they could manifest into beasts like the one before him. If the Disorder was a calling card to the future, then where did this creature fit into everything?

_Are you truly just an experiment? What were your masters trying to achieve? Were you created to guard the ruins… Or were you a machine built for war?_

Such incredible power must have been at the Ancients’ disposal, for them to be able to retroactively summon such monsters… Power that could not be measured by artifacts and murals alone... Unfathomable, immense; that which could not be grasped by the hands of the unworthy. And now that the operation was in action, it was within reach… To be utilised by the army - the power was theirs for the taking…

...No.

It wasn’t _theirs_.

It was _his_.

 _His_ for the taking.

He alone had been the one to take the reigns of the project, to pull it back from the brink and bring it to life. No one else was worthy, not the generals ruminating in their strongholds on the borderlands, not the scientists that had never had the scope to find the key until he had shown them the way. _No one_. The power belonged to him and him alone - he who had accepted the project as his own with only his knowledge of the Ancients and his ambitions as his guiding light.

And with it, he would bring to the world what the people of all nations so desperately wished for: peace, unity… When the world was his there would be no war, no conflict, no bloodshed - for there would be no other nations than Nortis and her vassals, no reason to take up arms. He would fulfill their paltry desires and reap the glory and all it had taken was a simple promise to a handful of civilians that, cooperating with the army, they could save everyone.

He had come so far and now, now he was so close that he could almost taste it. Victory. Victory was his.

The sound of the lab door creaking open behind him broke his trail of thoughts. He did not turn, or stir, choosing instead to keep his eyes locked on the beast.

“Oh.” Began the slurred voice, jittery and restrained. “What brings you here, Colonel Kroitz?”

Did his presence in the lab make Specto as nervous as his underlings? He’d been equally territorial when they’d first met. Like an officer wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near the scientists’ business. A smirk etched itself onto his face.

“What’s the matter? You seem a little jumpy.” Kroitz asked, only looking over his shoulder to acknowledge the doctor’s arrival briefly. His words were devoid of any concern they might have otherwise denoted. And a moment later, his attention was back on the corpse. “The investigation is not over, but there’re already some interesting results.”

Interesting results, indeed… But no solid answers. His mind wandered back to his speculation, enough that he managed to forget for a little while that the doctor had come. He made his way towards where he stood, lingering uncomfortably close with his voice still lowered.

“Diene’s team is beginning to sniff around where they shouldn’t. They came to me and asked for information.”

Kroitz felt enough distaste towards the man that he instinctively turned away, eyes narrowing, though he disguised it as an unimpressed reaction to his statement.

“What we talked about... It would be best if we keep it secret.”

Was this what he was getting worked up about? Neutralising the Disorder should have been all that the civilian entourage cared about. Nothing except for that was any of their concern… But. Then there was _Evann_ \- of all people - at the helm of that group. Evann whose personal vendetta was enough that he’d throw even the most genuine of Kroitz’s words back in his face. Evann, who more than likely was the reason any of them were at all suspicious.

Kroitz turned further away from the doctor, to shroud the irritation forming on his features at the thought of _that little shit_ causing him such problems at this stage. With a humph, he forced himself to appear nonchalant. “They’re a dimwitted bunch. They won’t find out. We’ve nothing to worry about.”

“Even so…” Specto began again, unconvinced. “I don’t want anything interfering with my plan. Wouldn’t it be wise to take proper precautions?”

 _‘Your’ plan?_ The doctor’s words forced the hands tucked behind Kroitz’s back into tight fists. Whilst resisting the urge to put them to use, he spoke lowly, “We’ve more to worry about from the higher-ups.” _After all, you started meddling with the plan the moment the General decided to stick his nose in._ He sucked in a breath to quell his irritation, then looked back at the towering monster. “Either way, we’d better hurry to open the ruins. Without seeing the corpse, they’ll never figure out that the ruins of the Disorder gave birth to creatures like this.”

Specto paused for a few moments, and seemed in that time to genuinely consider that fact alone was enough to sure up the plan. “Yes… Without seeing it, people will not connect ‘evolution’ to the ruins or the Disorder.” The sound of his mouth twisting into a gratified smile could be heard in his tone. “They’ll see it as garbage.”

Or, perhaps they’d continue to seek the doctor out and press him for answers until he cracked. _Hm_. Maybe precautions weren’t such a terrible idea… If only because he didn’t have an awful lot of faith in Specto’s ability not to keep his ugly trap completely shut if Evann decided to get more… Persuasive. He did tend to forget that most men were weak enough that merely a blade at their throat would have them spilling everything. Perhaps it was better to be a little more forthright with Evann… Just a little.

“We can’t let anyone find out about the Quanlee Project now. Time to give our friends another push.”


	5. Act V

* * *

 

**ACT V**

 

Finding Diene in Locca was easy. Remembering that he was finding her for purely professional reasons was… Not quite as simple. Unlike Escarre with its long corridors and blind spots, the village was small and compact. Too many doors were open for personnel to come and go… Too many eyes would fall upon things they were not supposed to.

Upon his entry to the armoury, her eyes flashed up from her typewriter, her lips parting in surprise. She made haste to step around her desk to meet him, standing at arm’s length before her salute crossed her chest. “Good morning, Colonel.”

“Hard at work as ever I see, Diene. Good. Keep it up.” Kroitz told her with a cordial tone and smile, as if he was speaking with another faceless soldier and not the woman he regularly bedded.  “I take it Evann’s in the area?”

She nodded. “I believe his team returned not long back.”

As hoped, the idiot boy was proceeding with the task given to him in spite of his stubbornness and reluctance. And making exceptionally good progress with it, too, mind. Well… That was one of the benefits of being a Ranger - the Spirits would listen to Evann and readily aid him. An indispensable power as far as the program was concerned. To be born so blessed, in many ways… The little shit probably didn’t even comprehend how incredibly lucky he was.

Lips curling in gratification, Kroitz snickered through his nose for a moment, before speaking upfront to Diene again,  “Excellent. He deserves more than praise alone for his work. Are you sure he won’t enroll as a soldier?” The idea was laughable, and not just because Evann had always detested the military.

Apparently considering the question in earnest, Diene frowned. “His reluctance to respond to my initial conscription letters speaks for itself, Sir.”

“A pity. I would’ve honoured him with a commissioned rank.” As mad as it may have sounded, at that point, Evann may well have deserved to be an officer more than the higher-ups living carefree on the borderlands did. He continued to muse aloud,  “Besides, having a Ranger around would be of some use… If he wasn’t so difficult, it would be worth talking him into it.”

Her frown became mildly dejected. “He feels the same way as many people do. Even though he’s working with us, he still believes that the army is a destructive force.”

So they did. Diene did like to make a point of that. It served to remind him that her ambitions were so very different from his own… And that was why he had to keep her close, why he had to have her in a position where she would understand her goals were futile, when the time came. That position, it seemed, was between his sheets, mewling and writhing beneath him… Her nails in his back, his name upon her painted lips…

_...Ah. Wait _ . They were still in the armoury. He cleared his throat.

“He may come around. I expect his mission will change his mind, to a degree.” And if it didn’t? It was of no great consequence.  “The world may not approve, but in this time of peace, the army must prove its worth through tasks like this.” He held her now attentive gaze.  “There is great suffering among us. Those suffering are growing in number. Luckily, we have discovered the cause.” Words he’d conveyed to her before; words she continued to embrace no matter how many times he spoke them.  “So, we must hurry. We must do all that we are capable of.”

Something akin to pride crossed her face. Her chest swelled and she saluted again, spirit rising with her voice. “We were lucky that it was the Nortis who learnt of the ruins and their systems, and that you are commanding us, Colonel. This operation will prove to the world how precious an army is.” And - there it was. That wildfire. The impassioned Lieutenant that believed in him, in his word… The woman who would follow him to the end. Her eyes glinted with zeal, and her salute turned to her palm pressed flat to her heart. “This operation is teaching me to dream. Our team, of differing races and views, is banding together in search of peace.” She lowered her hand, a light smile gracing her features. “If people can see that we’ve learnt to work together, it could change the world! It may be the greatest contribution we, the army, could make to the world.”

Kroitz stepped forward, closing the gap between the two of them. Her shining eyes lifted to meet his gaze, and for a moment she looked a little startled by his sudden movement. Still, with her stained lips parted, he was reminded of how much she really did look like an ornate doll… And, in many ways, that was precisely what she was. A painted mannequin, posed as an elite soldier, whose every string was wrapped tight around his deft fingers... String tied with promises of the future she believed in… But only  _ he _ knew the extent of that. The time would come, for sure, when she would know the truth - because she was astute... Perhaps the sharpest person he’d ever met, and that was among the reasons he’d ever seen her as anything more than another typical underling. It was almost surprising he’d managed to lead her along for as long as he had. She would make her choice, then - to blindly follow her own paltry beliefs, or to see the sense in his.

_ We _ will  _ change the world. That much I can assure you, my sweet. _

He pressed a hand to her shoulder with a soft squeeze.  “I suppose you’re right. Such an opportunity may well open the door to new chances for uniting the world.”

Bowing her head, she crossed her hands in front of her breast with a coy smile, cheeks dusted with pink.  _ Ah _ . His heart jumped at the sight. There she went again, getting flustered like a schoolgirl… After everything, she still reacted to his appraisal that way… He loved that about her, took pleasure in the fact he could so easily turn the stern and sharp-witted Lieutenant into a shy and gentle woman; weak-kneed, submissive to his will. In another lifetime, in a more simple world, then perhaps being able to look upon her face every day would be all the bliss he’d need…

_ Bloody woman… You will be the death of me. _

“I hope your dreams are realised when this operation succeeds.”

She raised her head again and purred, “Colonel Kroitz…!” And it was almost enough to make him forget where they were. That for the remainder of this operation he had to at least act like she was nothing more than his colleague and subordinate. And yet, though it was not her intention, she was making it so very, very difficult. As his eyes drifted down her face and fell upon her lips his mind began to wander, to the vivid and brazen memory of what they looked like wrapped around his--

The door slammed open. Her expression cracking like thin ice, and their fleeting moment with it, Diene jumped away from his grasp, startled by the noise.

Sucking in a deep breath through his nose, Kroitz turned towards the newcomer, acting as unphased by the horrified look Diene was trying her best to shroud as possible.

Evann’s face suggested he was as dissatisfied as usual, but likely not because he’d walked in on anything he wasn’t supposed to.  _ Right _ . He’d called him there for a reason.

“Oh, Evann! So glad you could make it!” Kroitz allowed his voice to drip with falsified pleasantness, expressing his mild and sudden irritation on purpose - not that Evann would know, or care.  “Well done, you’ve destroyed two Disorder epicentres. I’m impressed.”

“I didn’t do it by myself!” Evann huffed. Indeed, he seemed as oblivious as expected. Thankfully. “I had my team’s help.”

Kroitz tucked his hands behind his back.  “My apologies. Your associates have also done fine work. On behalf of the area’s citizens, I thank you all.”

His words were wasted on the boy, who rebuked them with a raised fist. “Who cares about your thanks?” He snarled. “I know you saw the corpse of the Elemental Beast inside the ruins!”

_ Hm _ . Of course, the creatures he’d found in the other ruins were what he’d been getting worked up about, weren’t they? The fact that Evann couldn’t shrug them off as just the bodies of monsters found in places left uninhabited suggested he already knew more than he should have…

“What the hell was that thing?” He went on to ask. “I’ve never seen something so unnatural. It was like a mummy!”

“The corpse of an Elemental Beast, eh? Specto’s in charge of the investigation, but I haven’t heard a thing about it.”

Evann scrunched his nose up to suggest that, as usual, he didn’t believe the words presented to him. Which, being falsified, Kroitz supposed he shouldn’t have. He raised an eyebrow at the boy’s expression.

“What is it? What are you frightened of? It’s not like that mummy came to life and attacked you, is it? Our objective is to liberate the ruins and end the terror of the Disorder as soon as possible.” He loosened a hand to wave it, somewhat dismissively.  “Make haste, Evann.”

Looking as unimpressed at the order as expected, Evann responded with bitterness, “Why are you in such a hurry? You’re up to something, aren’t you?”

Diene cut in, her voice harsh and upfront, “Evann! Can’t you see what he wants!? Quick action on our part is the only way to decrease the suffering of the people!”

Taken aback by her sudden outburst, Evann quietened a bit as he replied, “No, I know that, but… The way he said it bugged me.”

_ Good grief _ . Kroitz bit his lips together to stop himself from laughing even a small amount at that comeback.

“It’s because you don’t see the big picture!” The impassioned Diene from before returned to reprimand the boy. “The Colonel is working very hard to bring peace to the people.”

“Evann, this operation is important. I don’t care that you hate me, but everyone’s safety depends on your team. I hope you can understand why we are impatient.”

Though Evann narrowed his eyes, he muttered out an agreeable reply, “Yeah. You know I’ll give it my best! Even I can see how significant this is.”

_ Good boy _ . Kroitz gave him a nod of acknowledgement.  “If this mummy concerns you, ask Specto. He should be in Escarre’s Uptown. I’ll notify them to let you in.” No doubt Evann would end up doing just that…  _ Hm _ . So, he’d also have to tell the doctor to expect him. Hopefully the boy wouldn’t end up getting  _ too  _ aggressive in his demands for information.  “You should really get some rest while in Escarre.” His gaze drifted between Evann, and Diene, and back again, before he stepped towards the door. Lingering around waiting for Evann to leave first would no doubt create a certain level of suspicion, so he thought better of it.  “One Disorder epicentre remains. Neutralise it as soon as possible.” As he looked upon the boy’s face he admired, albeit momentarily, his somewhat attentive expression. Perhaps -  _ perhaps _ \- he was starting come around, after all…

...Ah, but it was still Evann, of all people. Evann who had openly cried ‘I hate you’ and ‘I hope you die in the war’ just three years before. There was no use in him getting ahead of himself.

“Keep it up, Evann. I’m counting on you.”

His stance would not change with words alone, and it was likely it never would… Time was running out. He only had to believe that stopping Disorder was the end for a little longer. One more ruin, one more  _ slab _ , and the next stage could, at last, begin.

 

\--

 

They met with the civilian party at dawn, a clear day not unlike the one he’d witnessed emerging from the Sandworm’s Den after claiming the slab from there. It felt as if that dangerous foray had happened so long ago, now. Everything had changed so dramatically since... No longer was he a Lieutenant, under the thumb of his spineless superiors, but a decorated and respected commander, one who had lead a brilliant operation to success. And though the Elemental Disorder Termination Program was coming to a close, his work was not... The top of the pillar was still out of his reach. But, soon…  _ Soon _ , he would be there. He could hear it - the call of the Ancients to the future. Their beacons had been quelled... All that was left was to open the birthplace.

The group were together in wait, outside of the remains of the small town wrecked by the Disorder’s heavy winds. Clear skies and silence indicated their success. Nortis stood beside Arcadians and Hazmans as comrades, victors in the battle against the disasters that had plagued the land. Exhausted, but with their spirits lifted by the completion of their task… A perfect picture of Diene’s hopes and wishes. And she stood among them, a staunch figure though her eyes and lips were alight with her smile... It was almost a shame it was all going to be so short-lived.

Straight-backed, Kroitz glanced between each of them, holding their gaze with acknowledgement and feigned politeness. The Arcadian Knight, a tall and fair young man, was as stone-faced as expected - but he continued nonetheless to appear oblivious to the role he was about to play in his nation’s future. The Sergeants that had flanked Evann in the Sandworm’s Den brought their fists to their chests in attentive salutes as soon as he laid eyes upon them. Diene followed suit. And Evann, himself? Well… Apart from looking the most disheveled out of all of them, he appeared to be more interested in checking over a large bloody gash in his arm than paying much attention to Kroitz.  _ Ah _ ... Annoying.

He spoke aloud regardless, disguising his irritation with gratitude,  “Ladies and gentlemen! You’ve done it!” Eyes fixed on the boy, Kroitz watched him raise his head with a typically unimpressed frown.  “Years of terror by the Disorder have ended. Well done, Lt. Diene. Congratulations to everyone.”

The little shit’s attention was back on his injury a split second later. Just as Kroitz fought not to roll his eyes, and was about to suggest someone fetch him a bandage of some variety, Specto had crept ahead to approach the boy.

“Now, we would like you to hand over the slabs…” He slurred between his grinning lips. “We need those for future research on the ruins.”

Evann’s shoulders lifted in a light shrug. “Sure, we have no use for it.” He yanked the slabs out of a satchel at his waist, presenting them to the doctor. Though, for a moment, he seemed to hesitate handing them over… Kroitz felt his eyes narrowing at the sight. Then, Evann added, “But don’t go messing with it!”

“Of course we won’t!” Either Specto faked offense then, or he really was bothered by the boy’s words. It wasn’t easy to tell. “It will be used to benefit all people, just like the ancient gears.” But then the moment the cretin’s fingers wrapped themselves around the first of the slabs his lips twisted upwards again. He looked upon it like it was made of solid gold and mewled, “Oh! This is truly magnificent! The mysteries of the ancient civilisation will be revealed...”

Before the doctor could run his stupid mouth, let alone start to make things downright weird with how he was looking at the slab, his curled lips quivering in delight, Kroitz cut in,  “Specto!”

With that, the doctor snapped back to reality, but thankfully it seemed Evann had still been distracted by his wound once the slabs had been taken, beginning to nurse it with a healing spell.

And that was that. All four slabs were in their possession. No struggle, no outright refusal from the civilian party to hand them over… It almost seemed  _ too  _ easy. Well. No matter. Time was still short. Getting comfortable with the situation was not an option, not until the birthplace had been opened and the project was complete... His fists tightened in anticipation at the thought of all his efforts finally,  _ finally _ coming to fruition.

He eyed over each member of the entourage again, wearing a plain expression to shroud his thoughts.  “We’ll be heading back now.” Meeting Diene’s gaze, the corners of his mouth lifted and he added,  “Lt. Diene, you will accompany us. Your work is admired by top officials.” As it always had been... As it always would be.

Eyes bright, she beamed with pride, or elation, or both. “Sir, thank you, Sir.”

“People! Fear has left this land!” He announced, breaking his lingering eye contact with Diene to turn to the group again.  “On behalf of everyone, I thank you.”  Skimming over each of them again, he added,  “Your hard work will be fully rewarded. Go back to Locca and take some R and R.” Looking once more in Evann’s direction, his smile piqued. All that suspicion and slander the idiot had been making a fuss about, and it had barely amounted to anything… The poor, naive boy. Perhaps he still despised the military so that he wouldn’t even stay in Locca long enough to see the conclusion of his efforts. It almost felt like a pity.  “Again, I thank you all. Dismissed!”

  
  


\--

  
  


Thick towers of black smoke reached into the sky and pierced the clouds above. The depiction on the mural at Escarre had come to life, the moment the slabs had been placed within the seal. A dark wind whisked through the area, thread its cold fingers through his hair and into the depths of his lungs, and there was a taste of ash amongst it, gritty and cloying but somehow... Liberating.

He closed his eyes and let the moment be realised. All his efforts had amounted to this. Beyond the cracking seal lay the secrets of the Ancients; the fruits of his labour and every risk he had taken to get there. The future of the world was waiting for him, waiting to be grasped by the only hands that were worthy.

Behind him, 7th Division lingered with the gasps of awe upon their lips heralding the unsealing. Ten of his personal guard, thirty armed men and eighty more in reserve, a legion about to follow his lone figure into the fray - whether they were prepared or not.

The smoke began to melt away into the grey skies, leaving the path clear. Deep, he inhaled another breath of the ashen air. Let it touch his throat, swell in his chest. He embraced the call of the Ancients - and was finally ready to answer.

He raised his hand and clicked his fingers and the breath he held departed as a battle cry:  “Strike force! Advance!”

And as his dreams began to flourish into reality, so too did reality turn into a living nightmare.


	6. Act VI

* * *

 

**ACT VI**

 

_[“He awarded me medals, and said carrying out one’s duty is the greatest honour! He told me that we galvanised the army… Yes, I am a soldier. I’m such a fool!”]_

_[“It was all a lie, wasn’t it? Lots of people are going to die again because of what we did. I can’t believe anyone! Everyone is going to kill each other!”]_

_[“Yeah. We’re a bunch of idealists. We dream, and make asses of ourselves. What a fine bunch of idiots we are.”]_

 

Hindrance came in the depths of the ruins, past the long darkened corridors swarming with monsters and untrodden by humans for centuries. Hindrance came in the form of another sealed door, another immovable barrier separating him from his goal.

The slabs were required again - for a further slot, it appeared. Despite the efforts of the men their tools would not shift the internal door. Frustration swelled in him at the realisation - why hadn’t the slab been brought along? Apparently Specto had not thought that far ahead, assuming that the use of the slabs above ground would unlock every door below.

“I don’t believe this.” Grimacing, Kroitz clutched his fingers through his hair. “We are so close to Evol.” Hissing as he addressed the doctor, he let his hand drop. “Do something!”

“Just ahead lies the fruit of the Quanlee Project, where we’ll meet the ultimate being.” Specto began, his voice somehow managing to be clear and half-mumbled at the same time. He gazed at the seal, eyes bulging and wonderstruck as he grinned, losing himself in his own little world and failing to address the problem, “This ruin, as well as the whole world, seems to lead me to Quanlee through Evol!”

There he went again, spurting that crap like no one had heard him do it before. Kroitz’s patience had already been worn paper thin and at that moment, clenching a fist tight in aggravation, he snapped aloud, “Get ahold of yourself! None of this matters unless _I_ possess it!” Taking minor consolation in the fact the doctor recoiled at his outburst with fear overtaking his awe in an instant, he turned back to the soldiers in front of the seal. “Quickly - send some men to the surface. I want that slab! We’ll wait up top until they return.”

But - those men assigned to that task returned from their rush back to the top... Empty handed. The slabs were gone.

 _Gone…?_ From a sealed area? Before the anger billowed enough that Kroitz was well and truly prepared to demand that whoever was on guard at Locca be brought to him so he could deal with them before anything else happened - it quickly occurred to him there was a team in the village who had not dissolved and were more than likely aware at this point of the slabs’ usage… Or, indeed, they were no longer in the village, but down there in the ruins as well. And by that point, repossessing the slabs, they’d likely gotten ahead.

His theory proved true when he strode back down to the internal seal. Its doors were cracked wide open, revealing the ongoing stretch of ruins beyond.

For the first time in a long, long time, as he stared into the darkened void ahead, fear struck his heart. He’d made one mistake, put a _single foot wrong_ by not bringing the slabs along. How could he have been so… Unthorough? And now, potentially, of all the damned people in the world, Evann was going to reach Evol and Quanlee first.

No…

Then - the fear became rage.

_No._

It wasn’t over. It wasn’t over until his lungs would draw his final breath. That power belonged to _him_. Even if he had to rip it from the boy’s fingers he would have it.

 

Surveillance returned with some better news. By the looks of things, the higher levels of the ruins extended further across than previously suspected - but required another slab as a key… The slab from the centre of the ruins below. _Ah._ Was that the true location of Quanlee? Did the darkness beyond only head downwards, and to another Spiritual Atrium, and had they been running in circles, after all?

...Of course. The mural and the ancient city at Escarre. If that was whether the birthplace truly did lie in wait, then as long as the slab obtained, then his efforts had not been in vain.

Armed guards surrounded the door. And there, they waited. If the ruins beyond were a dead end then that was the only exit. So whether or not the civilian team returned with Evol, or Quanlee, or just the required slab - or, empty handed, they were prepared.

As expected, Evann emerged from the door, none the wiser until he’d stepped straight into the trap they’d set.

“Don’t move!” One of the guards yelled as their group closed in upon the boy and his entourage, blades set in front of them.

Startled, Evann bristled, “Damn it!”

His reaction caused the edges of Kroitz’s lips to perk into an amused smile. _You thought you’d done it, didn’t you? Thought you’d finally bested me… You used to try so hard._ Stepping forwards, he looked the boy in the eye, falsifying a sense of surprise. After all, he had expected at first that Evann would’ve left the military well alone the moment he’d gotten the chance to. “Well, look who’s here! I never thought I’d see the likes of you here.”

Now, it was Evann’s turn to seethe with rage, his fists and body tensing; despite the weapons aimed in his direction he yelled out, “Kroitz!! You and all your big talk, I knew you hadn’t changed a bit!” His eyes drifting between the poised guards for a moment, he clenched his teeth and hissed through them, “What the _hell_ are you up to!? Just what secrets about Evol and Quanlee are you hiding in those ruins!?”

So, indeed, Quanlee was not present beyond the door. _Good_. The plan was back on track... Unless Evann happened to have become astute enough that he was now shrouding his own intentions with careful lies.

Kroitz watched for the boy’s reaction as he spoke again, “You couldn’t see, even if I told you. In the end, I controlled your every move. You were nothing but pawns.”

For a moment, something akin to pain crossed Evann’s face. “You’ve never thought of anyone but yourself. I shouldn’t have expected anything different.”

No… He wasn’t hiding anything. He was still the same boy from their village, just as he thought of him. Still the same petulant child whose buttons were so very easy to press… Still unable to grasp the bigger picture.

“You haven’t changed either, have you? You’re still a stupid simpleton!”

And the pain, or whatever it was, changed back into aggravation, “What did you say!?”

Waving the guards further forwards, Kroitz snickered, “Enough with the chit-chat. Hand over the slab and no one gets hurt.” Watching Evann’s eyes thin into slits at the demand he added, “Come on! I haven’t got all day.”

“Tch…” The boy reached for the slab in his possession, though he didn’t break the glare he was burning into Kroitz’s face, until he swung his arm back and launched the object across the room. “Here you go, you stupid bastard!”

Breaking their surrounding of the civilians, the guards scurried after the discarded slab. Seizing their chance at freedom, Evann and his team darted towards the opened Geogate on the opposite side of the room.

There was a sudden look of smugness upon the little shit’s face; clearly he believed that just by managing to escape, he’d wriggled out of the situation victorious. “See you later!” He called, before mustering the flow of the Spirits and disappearing into the light.

A few of the guards attempted to jog after the group - but to no avail. They were gone in a flash. _Hm_. So then… Given how easily he’d given it up, Evann didn’t yet know the slab had a further use. Or perhaps he’d simply thought better of getting himself into even more trouble.

 _Well… It looks like you_ have _become wiser over the years._ If only a little.

Kroitz shook his head to himself. “Leave him be, that fool. He will never get it. Where do they think they’re going?”

The answer to that question lay depicted upon the obtained slab he was handed a moment later - etchings that resembled the ancient city on the outskirts of Escarre… The true location of the birthplace that surveillance - and the mural back at the facility - had pointed towards.

_Ah, Evann… You really believed you’d won this round, didn’t you?_

But such a short-minded idiot could never outwit him, could never prove better than him at his own game. The blessing of the Spirits and sheer dumb luck would only be able to carry him so far. And someday - whether it be in their current world, or the new world he was going to build - both of those were going to run out.

  


\--

  


“Well, now… Aren’t you magnificent?”

Claws bared, the towering monster roared and screeched, as if answering the muttered question posed to it in earnest. So Specto’s predictions had been true… It wasn’t just ruins of the typical sort that lay beneath Escarre, but a _factory_ \- one constructed by the Ancients to churn out their attempts at controlling the Spirits. And this creature - this hulking winged beast with its six eyes, corrupted talons and dripping maw - this was an Elemental Beast, an experiment on the forces manifested into a monster. Only, unlike its predecessors, this one lived, moved, thirsted for blood. A brilliant sample of the Ancients’ knowledge; a failure, but a _living, breathing_ failure.

A dozen men stood their ground; brandished their blades and charged at the beast as directed. Some fled in terror, tripping over their feet and one another in pathetic attempts at making an escape. Of course, he _could_ have reprimanded them, ordered them to turn around and fight rather than die running like the cowards they were - but it had no bearing whether they did or not. So long as they remained to busy the creature - for the time being.

He knew Evol’s location - he knew exactly what needed to be done. Now all he needed was to get Evann out of his way. And the boy was coming; he was following the path opened to the factory - following _him_ \- and soon, he would walk into the trap being set for him. Evol’s control chamber above the lab had provided the answers he’d sought, as well as a way to seal the door below… Evann would be able to get in, but not out.

 _So, this is what you’ve become_ , Kroitz mused to himself, watching his men distract the beast from the balcony above the vast lab floor. _A man who would lure his oldest friend into grave danger… Possibly even send him to his death._ Though his thoughts were bitter, they somehow felt… Trivial. Unnecessary. Why should he care? Evann had wished him dead years before. He no longer felt anything but resentment for Kroitz, and perhaps he was right to do so. It was easier that way, to think of him as just another threat that needed to be dealt with… Not as the little brat with bright eyes and scraped knees who used to tag along after him like a lost sheep. _No_. They were men grown now, both of them. And Evann was naught but a blockade on his path to victory.

A sharp scream signalled the creature’s talons wrapping themselves around one of the soldiers; it brought him to its unhinged jaw and bit his flailing body in two, cries of abject horror emerging from the other men below as his blood was spilt, dripped in streams of red between bared teeth and claws. Several fled as before, running into the end of the room shrouded by darkness, and the monster pursued, trampling the fallen bodies left behind.

“Disgraceful.” He muttered with a snort. At least those that had already met with their deaths had proven their worth… The others, letting themselves be chased like rats, were merely making a mockery of themselves at that point.

At long last came the sound of the door below his vantage point opening. His lips edged upwards as he caught sight of Evann running straight into the middle of the lab floor. _Straight into the trap_. As expected, he darted towards the limp form of one of the dying men and knelt by his side.

“Hey! Are you okay?” The boy’s voice spoke above the period of sudden silence that had come with the fleeting departure of the beast. “What happened to you?”

Quiet groans came from the fallen man’s body, and he responded, just loud enough to be heard from the balcony, “We... Didn’t stand a chance, Colonel. That thing’s impossible to stop. Sir… I’m sorry I deserted everyone.”

“Hang on! You’ve got to tell me what happened in there!”

But the man was slipping, his words becoming strings of recollections that barely made sense, “It… Was alive. It moved. And then... All hell broke loose. Colonel, your orders were too much for us…”

Evann looked from side to side, becoming startled when the door he had come through began to close - and lock - behind him. He hurtled back to the sealed exit, swearing aloud in vain and the reaction was enough to pull a cackle out of Kroitz’s throat.

Hearing this, the boy’s gaze shot upwards with a cold glare. And he seethed, fists and teeth bared as he yelled at the top of his lungs, “ _Kroitz_!!”

The monster’s distant roars echoed through the length of the room, as if in exchange with the outcry, and Evann’s face fell into shock or fear, or both.

“We have a ‘defect’ that will be a fitting challenge for inept scum like yourselves!”

And with those taunting words, anger took ahold of the boy again. Even at a time like this, it was remarkable how ridiculously easy he was to rile up. “Kroitz! Some of your men are still alive and trapped in here!”

“They’ve completed their mission. I have all the information about Evol.” _There’s nothing standing in my way, now… Not even you, Evann._ His lips spread further as he peered down upon his grimacing face. _You poor boy. You could’ve been a great Ranger. If only you could’ve seen further than your own petty emotions._ “I don’t need you now. I’m leaving you to that evolutionary failure. Goodbye!”

As he turned to leave, the lab shook with the oncoming return of the monster, and the enraged cries of the boy whose fate lay within its corrupted talons.

  


\--

  


Intel had traced the exact location of the birthplace, directly beneath the derelict city on the outskirts of Escarre. The task at hand now, with the ruins’ path already opened, was to pierce through the ground there in order for the artillery to reach the unsealed chamber. If the failed experiment was anything to go by, then men alone would not suffice in claiming Quanlee. He needed drills, tanks, artillery, whatever machinations could possibly be put to use.

“Cut through the ground.” He’d told them. Questioning looks had been replaced quickly with attentive salutes when he’d demanded, “I don’t care how it’s done. Just do it. _That is an order_!”

The barracks rattled with the noise of engines, the scent of burning fuel and saltpetre - the greatest feeling of anticipation that ran deep in his veins and into the tips of his fingers, curled around the cold steel railing of his tank. There was time yet, before the breakthrough would take place, yet his heart throbbed like he’d already claimed his prize. Through his nose he inhaled deep, taking in the smoke-filled air.

_Soon._

What was happening, he wondered, beyond the Nortis territories? Had word of his deceit spread through the Arcadian Knight back to his country? _Soon… Soon_ , their fragile peace would disappear into thin air and the war would begin anew. Soon - he would harness the power of the Ancients and finish what had been started decades ago, long before his time. Arcada would fall, fall straight into his hands - and the rest of the world would follow.

And, this… This was the reason for his existence, the reason he had been born to that tiny, slumbering village with the foul hand he had been dealt - to look beyond the horizon, to break free of the binding shackles, to tread a different path than both his dear mother and rotten pig of a father. He had been born to answer the call of the Ancients. He had been born to change the world.

A sharp voice broke across the sound of the rumbling engines and straight through his thoughts, shaking him from them as if he were being roused from a dream, “ _Kroitz_!!”

 _Ah_ . That voice... _Her_ voice. And she didn’t sound too happy, so much so that she had bellowed his name without his title despite the presence of many men in earshot. Where had she been, all this time, since the seal had been opened?

Kroitz let a smile form on his face as he clambered over the tank’s barrier to greet her. “Diene!” After jumping down and landing on firm ground, he addressed the woman, approaching in firm strides. “The new mission is proceeding as planned. Soon, the power of the Ancients connected to the Disorder will be uncovered. It may help us understand how to prevent such disasters in the future.” A carefully chosen twist of the truth, though by the icy look upon her face it hadn’t served to alleviate her mood. Of course, he had expected she would act this way, upon finding out about the extension of the program… Diene, his sweet, lovely Diene... The time had come for her to make her choice. As she came to a standstill, he offered his hand in her direction. “Stand by me, Diene.”

With her own hands firmly by her sides, she shook her head. Her eyes searched his face and as her frown spread, she began to looked more pained than angry. “I sent a message to the higher-ups. They know what you’re doing.”

He raised an eyebrow. So _that_ was what she’d been up to? Trying to get in his way, like the civilian team… _Hm_. He had thought she might’ve shown a little more reluctance. Tucking his empty hands behind his back he snorted, “Oh…? And what good do you suppose that will do?” At her grimaced response, he stepped forwards to clear the gap between them. Only then did she break their eye contact, casting her gaze downwards. The higher-ups wouldn’t be quick enough to intervene, no matter what she had told them… He knew that, and she knew that.

“How could you do this?” She murmured. “They trusted you. _I_ trusted you!” Her hand pressed to her heart she whipped her head up, voice raising, “Everything we talked about, everything you told me…!”

“Calm down. There are men here. Do you want to cause a scene?” Lips quirking as she shrunk, he straightened his back to loom above her, and added, “Sometimes, we’re forced to make difficult choices. I knew I would not obtain approval for this project, in spite of its value. There were many things I had to keep to myself… I believe in the peace you seek, Diene - and that peace will come when we use this new power to take the world. I had hoped that when the time came, you would understand.”

Eyes burning as they lifted towards his face again, her body tensed. Not from intimidation, but from ire. Quick as a flash, her hand whisked upwards, lithe fingers connecting with the side of his face in a loud, stinging slap, hard enough to turn his head.

He released the breath he was holding.

“Understand _what_!?” She seethed. “You’ve never wanted peace, not even for a moment! You lied to everyone for your own sake! How can you continue to make excuses like--”

The split second his fist had snatched her assaulting wrist up, she stared at the coldness overtaking his face, and became still.

“Why did you come here, Diene? What did you hope to achieve?” The way she then tugged her arm in a pathetic attempt to free it roused another smirk from him. “Did you think you could stop me?”

Resolute, she spat through gritted teeth, “I have to try. If I didn’t try, I might as well never call myself a soldier again.”

And that was why he’d kept her close by, why he’d ever found her intriguing. Her determination, her honour, persisted, even now… If only she could have seen past her own delusions, she would’ve continued to be as brilliant as he’d known her to be. But, the chances that would come to pass were slipping through his fingers like sand, as the twinge of pain on his face (and in the very, very deepest depths of his chest) suggested. As his eyes narrowed, the fingers twisted around her wrist burnt like they’d touched fire, and he forced her arm behind her back, locking her body against his and pushing, _pushing_ until the hardness of her face cracked.

Nothing was going to get in his way. Nothing was _allowed_ to get in his way... Not even her. If Evann had failed, then there was no way she would succeed. And given that she was still under his command, he wasn’t content to let her insolence slide - especially after her assault, as fleeting and as pitiful as it had been.

“Go on, then.” He baited through the smiling lips poised to whisper into her ear, though his tone was far from amused. “Try. Try to stop me. You can’t, though, can you?” Chuckling bitterly, he took a small amount of pleasure in the suppressed whimpers of pain rising from her throat. “You didn’t even come here armed. Stupid woman. You might be a brilliant mind but you’re incredibly _weak_.” As he accentuated that word with a forceful twist of her arm she groaned. “Is this what you wanted? Shall I make an example of you, in front of the men?” Urged on by the sudden notion crossing his mind of fucking her up against the tank right then and there, showing her and any onlookers where she belonged and putting her back into her rightful place, and her not being able to deny him that, not being able to writhe free as much as she’d want to - he let the edges of his lips press to the shell of her ear, inhaling the scent of her soft hair.

She swallowed thickly and her adamancy came again; through her shivering breaths she uttered inflamed words he never thought he’d ever hear leave her mouth, “ _You bastard..._ ” But then, he must have forced her arm too hard, for she whimpered, “...Please. Please stop. Y-You’re hurting me.”

‘Please, no… Please don’t. It hurts…’; words from long ago echoed in his mind, and so too did they come with a vision of bloodied floorboards, strewn with long violet hair.

 _Remember who gave you your position, who put you where you are today… Without me, you are nothing_ \- he was about to allow those words to roll from his tongue when the memories stopped him dead. ‘Remember who put this roof over your damned head, you ungrateful bitch. Remember who put that snivelling little worm you love so much in your rotten womb. Without me, you aren’t worth shit!’

Horror - a sudden, stabbing horror that he hadn’t felt in a long time - gripped onto his heart like a vice, and at once his hold on Diene was released. He stepped back and looked into her widened eyes, upon her shaken and scowling face, his own expression teetering on dismay.

_No… No, not now. Not now. Not ever._

And then, and then, like clockwork, he straightened up with the memories being forced as far away from his heart and mind as possible, regained his composure with a sharp intake of breath. He cleared his throat, and as he spoke again with his chin raised, his voice was cold, “Very well. Cling to your crumbling ideals of peace, if you must. They may serve you well in the future.” He turned away from her. “Goodbye, Diene.”

Effort spent changing her mind would be effort he could use elsewhere. She had made her choice clear. No matter what he told her, however he tried to make her see the sense in his aims, her own thoughts and desires were closer to her heart than he could ever hope to be. Like the rest of the higher-ups lying idle on the borderlands, Diene had chosen placidity. She had chosen peace.

She had chosen the fall.


	7. Act VII

* * *

 

**ACT VII**

 

Chaos engulfed the chasm. Artillery fire shattered the ancient defense mechanisms surrounding the birthplace into shreds, the noise deafening as it bounced off the ceilings and walls of the colossal chamber. Embers burnt through the dark like stars upon the horizon, swelling brightest before they died, and it felt as if the war truly had already begun anew.

“Gentlemen!” Hanging to the side of his proceeding tank, he felt the madness - every shot fired and every quake of the ground - in his bones, in the depths of his chest and his lungs; his lone, absolute commands were roared out to his forces. “Glory is right before us! Death must not be feared!” Blood rushed in his veins, a swell of exhilaration with it as he clenched his fist and lifted his gaze to look upon the sudden explosion from the bombardment ahead. The impact violently shook the chasm and the tank was forced to grind to a brief halt to avoid the falling debris. And though the shockwaves rang like deathly screams in his ears, cracking whips of air through his hair and the folds of his uniform, he remained upright, steadfast, invigorated - he embraced the feeling of the destruction, the proof to the Ancients that he was worthy of their power.  “Victory belongs to the Nortis army!”

Yet -  _ yet _ , scurrying towards the path he was cutting ahead were uneven footsteps, and an all-too familiar voice, bitter and reprimanding, “ _ Kroitz _ !!”

_ Ah _ … So the little shit had managed to free himself and his friends from the experiment’s claws, after all. To a certain degree, he’d expected as much. But - what was he doing there, upon his battleground? Was the idiot trying to get himself and his entourage killed by still trying to reach the birthplace first? Letting his eyes trail down towards Evann’s hostile figure on the ground, Kroitz humoured him with a faint smile.  _ You’re still trying, aren’t you? But it’s over, now. I win. _

“Are you out of your mind!?” Evann yelled, almost drowned out by the sound of artillery fire. Kroitz glanced away for a few moments to look upon the descending chaos again, as the boy continued, “This ruin is way too dangerous - you’ll kill us all!!”

He snorted at the words. If danger was what the idiot was concerned for, then he shouldn’t have been there in the first place. Eyes sliding back towards him, Kroitz responded aloud,  “Me? You’re the ones who are mad!” Evann’s brow lifted at the words, his form straightening in surprise.  “It’s insane to come here without a plan!” Another explosion rattled the area and the boy winced at the noise.  “You naive fool! Nothing comes free in this world - everything has its price!”

For there was no progress without risk, no glory in war without pain, and if Evann had to learn that the hard way, then so be it. Would he retreat, now? Or, like Diene, would he pursue him to continue to fight the battle he was losing?

Breaking their shared gaze, Kroitz raised his hand and called out to his men to proceed, the tank’s tracks rolling again a moment later - on and into the fray, leaving the boy once again in his perilous wake, powerless to stop him, and the hell that was beginning to unfold.

 

Destruction and casualties littered the ground before the birthplace. Broken shards of artillery, fragments of the ruins’ weaponry; strewn limbs, blood - the permeating scent of ash and dust and fuel and death.

He stepped past groaning bodies, just as he had on the battlefield years before, chin raised and with only his goal in mind. The birthplace was in his sights, and the top of the pillar with it.

“Finally!” Specto’s snivelling voice could be heard near the entrance; talking to himself, he cackled, “I’ve come this far - I’m almost there. Soon, I will meet Evol!”

Footsteps ran in the doctor’s direction, ripping him from his musings. Accompanied by the two Sergeants assigned to him, and a pale-haired Arcadian woman, Evann stalked towards the unarmed man, who began to recoil at the approach in fear.

The boy’s yells echoed across the dark chasm, “You bastard! Do you have any idea what you’ve done!?” He ripped out his blade. “You won’t get away with this!”

Were the situation at hand not so pressing, the sight and sound of the cretin wailing and attempting to back off pathetically might have proven humourous. But it was neither the time nor the place for such frivolities.

_ So, Evann… You didn’t run, after all. _ His bravery outshone his intelligence. Or perhaps he was still just as foolhardy as he had been as a child. It was hard to believe that same stupid kid from his memories was now grown and able to fight, and was proving to be such a nuisance.

Crimson’s edges scraped against her sheath as Kroitz drew her. Flanked by his trailing guards, he stepped between the doctor and the boy; facing the latter, he watching him stall mid-stride and muster a hostile position.

“Specto - go!” He ordered over his shoulder. Their time was lacking… The idiot should have gone for the birthplace already instead of mumbling to himself outside. What the hell had he been waiting for?  “I’ll take care of these insolent fools. Obtain Quanlee from Evol!”

The doctor obliged with relief and appreciation in his voice, moments before he scrambled away from the scene, “Thank you, Colonel!”

Grimacing with an angered grunt, Evann attempted to dart past in pursuit of Specto. Once more, Kroitz brought him to a staggering halt, stepping into his path and pressing Crimson’s tip to his collarbone. The boy’s shocked look earned him a smirk in return. Had he really expected him just to let him go? After all that had happened, was he really still so callow?

Evann hesitated, as if unsure whether to raise his own blade or not. In the corner of his eye, Kroitz could see the Arcadian woman starting to trudge forwards with her own shortsword brandished. Meeting her glare, he pressed further on Crimson’s hilt and with feigned enticement in his gaze, let the edges of his mouth curl until she, too, faltered. The Sergeants seemed equally as aggravated, but though they placed their hands on their weapons, thought better of approaching.

Chin lifted, Kroitz snapped his attention back to the boy,  “Evann! You don’t know when to quit, do you?” As Evann’s throat bobbed with tension, he felt Crimson jitter with anticipation… Unfortunately for her, he held no desire to spill civilian blood. But it was Evann who was going to be the one to make that choice for him. Would he stand down, now?  “You must really enjoy getting in my way.”

“Kroitz… Do you know what the  _ hell _ you have done!?” Through his teeth, clenched hard, Evann growled, “Look at this disaster!”

“What I see is a naive boy meddling in things that don’t concern him.” Kroitz answered promptly.

“I’ll be the one who decides what does and doesn’t concern me!” Evann spat back, raising his voice until it wavered and cracked slightly. “Is this disaster what you wanted to achieve!?”

‘Disaster’ this and ‘disaster’ that... The idiot would never be able to wrap his head around the concept of necessity. What did Evann believe in? The concept of a fragile peace, the same as Diene? Meagre pipe dreams - impossible with the world as it was. In the wake of the war and the Disorder, only the pillar remained - success, or doom. Sink, or swim. Fight - or die.  “I am a conqueror, striving for success.” Kroitz told him with a lowered tone.  “My only wish is to be victorious, and with the ultimate weapon - I will be!”

Snapping, Evann threw caution to the wind. He threw his blade up and clattered it against Crimson’s edge with a surprising amount of force, enough to make Kroitz quirk an eyebrow as he stood his ground.

“That’s ridiculous!” Inflamed, he hissed, “How can you justify bringing chaos and sorrow to everyone!?”

“‘Justify’? I don’t have to justify anything!” Pressing hard on Crimson’s hilt, Kroitz managed to slide both their swords down to the ground. Grinning at the way Evann’s brow knit in annoyance at the motion, he leant in closer to the boy’s face, his form towering above him as he put his weight on his blade to pin it out of his way,  “A real man should strive for the top. Only defeatists would whine about the pain and suffering that is necessary.” His words were impassioned, brought forth from the depths of his heart by sheer impatience, frustration with this blind moron. He knew they’d never sink in. Evann didn’t see the pillar; he never had done and he never would do, for he had no reason to. He was born blessed, born loved by his father and the Spirits and he saw success in placidity and like the rest of the masses yearning for peace he was a damned fool for it. Kroitz knew he was wasting his breath, but still, he could take a certain amusement watch Evann squinting and squirming as he tried to make sense of the words he was being told, whilst pushing his weapon back at the same time.  “A real man must have a heart of steel! I will succeed at all costs!”

“Spare me the speech!” Evann growled into his face. “We’ll see how strong your heart is when I sink my blade into it!”

_ Oh…? _ Those certainly were tough words from such a little pest. Did he truly comprehend what -  _ who _ \- he was up against? No… Of course he didn’t. Evann would never see beyond his own delusions.

Kroitz lifted his free hand and clicked his fingers, signalling for his guard to confront the boy’s entourage.  “Fall in!”

 

_ Is it peace that you’re really fighting for, Evann? _

Their blades clashed, over and over and over again, loud and brash ringing filling his ears and the thrill of the battle pulsing in his veins.

_ Or, is it me? Did you want to settle the score? _

Though the boy still had no poise or grace, the years had developed his wit, speed and strength. If his knotted brow and tensed jaw were anything to go by, he still had to concentrate hard to know when to block the next blow, to predict what angle it would come from - but he could do so with efficiency. Kroitz was almost willing to consider him a worthy opponent.

_ Then prove it to me, Evann _ , he told the boy. With a flick of his wrist he aimed his attack close to Evann’s hilt in an attempt to disarm him, but his grip proved too solid and he reacted with an angered yell. Pushing his weight upon their now stilled blades, locked together by their shared force, Kroitz chuckled lowly as he noticed the boy’s knees weakening.  _ Prove it to me - prove to me you are strong enough to survive in my new world! _

In the corner of his eye, the white-clad Arcadian woman suddenly flashed by, fluttering like ripples of moonlight on a darkened lake, her glinting blade drawing dangerously close to his neck…

_ Ah. _ With a frustrated snort, Kroitz threw a hefty kick at the middle of Evann’s chest, hurtling him away just in time to shift Crimson to the side and parry the woman’s attack. As the boy tumbled over with a startled yell, she looked equally as shocked that she’d been stopped - for a moment, before she hissed through with clenched teeth.

She was fast. Faster than Evann. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to put her strength to use she pulled her blade away and darted underneath his arm, forcing him to turn on his heel before she could stab him from behind.  _ Hm… Clever girl… _ But not clever enough; her shortsword was lifted, as she seemed to predict he would attempt to throw his blade down at her again.

_ This is your enemy, remember. She’s not just a woman, she’s an Arcadian that wants you dead. _ That in mind, he felt no reluctance grabbing her tightly by the ends of her pale hair, watching with momentary humour as horror crossed her face before his kneecap collided with her nose.

The wonderful sound of anguish and rage emerging from her throat with the crack forced another snicker out of him, and as he threw her to the floor like a used rag, Evann’s voice rang sharply across the darkness, “ _ Lutina _ !!” His scrambling footsteps brought Kroitz’s attention back towards him and his form, hurtling forwards. “You bastard! I’ll make you pay for that!”

Fingers goading the boy on in a come hither motion, Kroitz readied his blade to meet the flailing onslaught. An awfully impassioned reaction… This Arcadian, was she Evann’s girl? The thought was laughable; not because of their differing races, and the fact that when the war began anew they would be on opposing sides, but because no matter how much he’d grown, at the end of the day, Evann was still just a pathetic, callow little shit. How could he handle a woman, when he could barely handle a sword?

Blades striking back and forth, they resumed their skirmish in light-footed steps across the chasm floor. Specto was certainly taking his sweet time, Kroitz mused with irritation as he fought back against the boy’s harsh blows. This distraction of sorts was dragging on. Where was Evol? Had he obtained Quanlee, or was the idiot doctor mumbling eager nonsense to himself inside the birthplace like the useless cretin he was?

On and on their battle continued. Even as his arms ached and the boy began to heave ragged breaths, they refused to back down. His guards, one by one, fell to the blades of the Sergeants and the Arcadian woman, back on her feet with a bloodied nose. Until, as had happened to him many times, he was the only one who remained.

But Evann would not yield. And neither would he. He’d come this far. To end up losing to that brat, of all people… He would not. He  _ could not _ . But, as the fight dragged on… As they both began to lose their breath… It only seemed to spur the boy on further. Fire burnt in his eyes and every cry pulled from his lungs as he swung his blade. And with some dismay, Kroitz remembered that this wasn’t just any stupid kid that had become a liability, but it was the one stupid kid who had the Spirits’ blessing on his side… Their village’s golden child, the boy with the Sun in his eyes…

Bitter memories prickled like shards of ice in the depths of his chest. And he jumped back, throwing caution to the wind and leaving his body exposed as he raised Crimson’s length above his head, channeling scarce remnants of his energy into her blade. Realising what was about to happen, apparently recognising and remembering the technique, Evann quickly brought his weapon down to shield his body. As he pierced the ground with Crimson the area rattled beneath their feet, a blinding light pulsating with the shockwaves. Even with his arms crossed to guard himself from the power, Evann groaned with pain, nearly dropping to his knees from the blast.

_ Better. _ But not good enough. Kroitz reclaimed Crimson from the ground and paced back towards the boy, aiming to strike before he could properly regain his balance. They locked eyes. He drew back his blade.

_ Last chance. Surrender now, you idiot... Surrender, before I-- _

Head bowed, split seconds before the strike, the boy sprung forwards, charging like a bull; just before his skull connected with the centre of Kroitz’s chest, the little shit’s leg kicked out, heel curling behind his own. As they had done many years ago, they hurtled to the ground together - only this time, Evann had managed to gain the advantage; as Kroitz hissed with the sudden shock of the landing, the boy straddled his chest, looming above him with the end of his sword pressed into the ground besides his head.

There would be no end to this, if he threw him aside. No end until one of them had slaughtered the other, or they’d knocked themselves out cold from sheer exhaustion first. And that was if Evann’s teammates didn’t intervene… Where  _ the hell _ was Specto…? Narrowing his eyes, Kroitz grunted as he asked the boy, slowly and coldly,  “Do you think you’ve won? Do you know what you’ve started? What have you achieved?”

“We’ve stopped your insane plans!” Evann retorted, apparently not planning to shift his weight off of him any time soon. “You only wanted the ultimate power to serve your greed!”

The sheer naivety of his words caused Kroitz’s lips to quirk upwards.  “Greed, huh...?” He mused on it for a moment, exhaling through his nose just after.  “I have no greed. Only ambition. What makes my dreams a reality is the courage and passion to follow them.” Eyeing the frown upon Evann’s face, he muttered,  “The ultimate power is simply a tool. I find my bliss in progress.” The progress of the army, of the Nortis people, of the  _ world _ \- none of it would be possible if he didn’t achieve his goals. Turning his head away from Evann, he grumbled,  “A punk like you wouldn’t understand!”

The boy seemed to pause to consider the answer in earnest for a moment, before spouting in the same angered tone as before, “I don’t buy any of that crap! You’ll never get Quanlee! You and your ambitions are finished!”

“I have not been defeated. I will never give in to the likes of you.” Kroitz glared upwards at him again, briefly eyeing the boy’s sword before the beginnings of a smirk crossed his face.  “What are you going to do? Kill me?”  He cackled, chest shaking despite the weight atop it. “You don’t have it in you! People like you will never realise your dreams!”

“At least I’m not pursuing a nightmare!” Evann grimaced as his head snapped upwards, in the direction of the birthplace. “Dammit - we’ve got to stop Specto!”

Evann grabbed his sword and rose to his feet to scramble away. Just as Kroitz pulled himself to his knees, he felt a sharp pain in his gullet, and a rough tug on his hair. His neck was forced to crane backwards, exposed to the point of the Arcadian woman’s knife.

“How I’ve longed to spill the blood of a Nortis commander…” Her voice purred over his shoulder, her fingernails digging into his scalp and twisting a hiss out of him. “For my country. For my people…”

_ Hah _ . So whilst Evann was willing to spare his life, this woman was not… And there was little he could do with her blade at his neck like that; even raising Crimson to block it would risk her slicing deep across his skin.

_ You, too, fight for your country and its people? _ Then if anyone was going to slit his throat, there was at least some amount of honour in it being her - a worthy adversary, not just some idiot that had gotten lucky.

But he refused to die. Not there. Not when he was so close to Quanlee, to  _ victory _ .

“Lutina - wait!” The voice of the blonde lady Sergeant called out. “Leave him be. He’s down for the count - what good will killing him do?”

_ Down for the count? _ Well… Exhausted as he was, he wouldn’t say that. If only the Arcadian would move her damned blade…

“What!?” The male Sergeant yelled at his colleague. “Carmyne, are you out of your damned mind!? Think of how many of our comrades are dead right now, ‘cause of this son of a bitch!”

“And that excuses it, does it?” The blonde snapped. “You want to talk about death and bloodshed, and then cause more of it!?”

“Be quiet!” The Arcadian hissed. “This is not your honour that’s at stake!”

The lady Sergeant crossed her arms under her breasts, speaking rather casually despite the situation. “Well to be honest, hun, it’s not yours, either. The Colonel is Evann’s fight. Let him finish it… If he wants to.”

It was… Somewhat amusing, to listen to them discuss his fate, particularly because the male Sergeant and the Arcadian woman didn’t seem at all happy with their teammate’s opinion. That said, the Arcadian’s blade did inch away at the words, though with some reluctance.  _ Hm _ .

“What is this crap!? I don’t give three shits about what that twerp does or doesn’t want!!” The male Sergeant yelled into the blonde’s face.

“Oh, will you be quiet!?” Unphased, she retorted, adding in a somewhat mocking tone, as if she were talking to a child, “If he starts attacking us, then we can fight back in defence,  _ alright _ ?”

Truth be told, Kroitz had no desire to do so. What good was fighting these morons going to do? It was Evann he needed to bring down, now… Evann who had gone into the birthplace after Specto… Cursing inwardly, he bided his time, waiting until the Arcadian woman - who then sighed in exasperation at the Sergeants - had loosened her grip on his hair.

The very moment she did, he mustered enough strength to shove Crimson between his neck and the Arcadian’s blade, forcing it a safe distance away. He then shot to his feet, almost knocking her over as he left the three of them in his wake and darted for the birthplace’s entrance. He heard the male Sergeant yelling at his escape… Would they pursue him? Only then would he treat them as he had Evann - as blockades in his path to success. Though it had been with reluctance and questioning, they had spared his life. But whether or not he was going to spare theirs, that was to be determined, by whether they followed him into the chamber or not…

...Whether they followed him to the beginning of the end.

 

\--

 

At the steps inside the inner chamber, the doctor griped on his knees, shaking his stooped head to himself and muttering what sounded like his usual nonsense. But - but… Something wasn’t quite right. Save for him, that darkened chamber was empty, cold and void. Nothing grand or impressive about it, as he predicted the birthplace of the ultimate power would be. Another open door remained ahead. Evol, Quanlee, Evann - they had to have been inside.

“What the hell are you whimpering about now?” Kroitz spat down at the doctor with disgust, dragging his worn body up the steps and pausing to glance at the open doorway.

“I-I was just… I was just a messenger.” Was Specto’s stammered reply, his face void of all colour. “The project, Colonel… All that we have done…”

At a time like this, he couldn’t fathom even the damned doctor getting worked up over nothing. But, just what did his unfinished sentences amount to? Frowning as he looked upon the doorway again, Kroitz wasted no time in striding towards it, towards the darkened void that lay beyond…

“Quanlee is the ultimate being...” A deep voice echoed, monotonous yet thick with mockery. “...As well as the ruler of the world.”

A broad, circular room lay beyond the door, dark as the outer chambers. Evann’s figure stood at the centre, facing a haggard, ashen-skinned man, grey-haired and clad in black.

The voice emerged from this man again, as he told the boy, “Everything in this world is nothing more than a tool to be used for his reign as king.”

This was Evol.  _ The _ Evol, the ancient guardian by which Quanlee was to be found. Surely. But, the way he spoke of Quanlee, his words denoted him as a person.  _ Everything in this world is nothing more than a tool to be used for his reign as king _ , he repeated in his mind,  _ Quanlee is the ruler of the world…? _

“That’s nonsense!” Kroitz snarled aloud, grabbing their attention as he paced into the room.  “The ultimate power belongs to me!” As the black-clad man turned to face him, he gripped tight on Crimson’s hilt.  “Evol! Where has Quanlee gone!?”

Protruding lips forming a smile, as if amused by the question, Evol told him, “Fifty years ago, he left on a journey to discover the world he would soon rule. That incident was Quanlee’s birth cry.”

_ Fifty years? _ Not only was Quanlee absent from the birthplace… His creation had been long ago, likely back when Specto had first--

‘I was just a messenger’.

...What the hell was this…?

Lifting his sword towards the ancient man’s neck, Kroitz hissed,  “Impossible! Quanlee was supposed to be a weapon under  _ your _ control!”

Undeterred by the blade, Evol laughed coldly, “Fool! I was only a caretaker. Quanlee doesn’t belong to anyone. Soon, everything will belong to him...”

_ No. _

“...Only the ultimate being can rule the entire world.”

_ No! _

Evol walked, and Kroitz moved the tip of his sword with him. “The time has come.” His mouth cracked into a disgustingly contented smile at his own words. “Quanlee will come to reign, and a new era will dawn! The Quanlee we have created will transform this pitiful world and its foolish beings into something beautiful!”

Kroitz felt his wrist shaking as his fist tightened as hard as possible around his hilt.  “That is not acceptable!” All his efforts, everything he had done, everything he had worked for - and yet, and yet… Quanlee was not there to prove his efforts. Quanlee had been created long ago, long before he’d even begun to dream of changing the world - long before he’d even been alive. Throat aching with tightness, he growled,  “I don’t care what Quanlee is! If I can’t have him, then everything is meaningless!”

The call of the Ancients, of  _ fate _ \- had it all been complete and utter bullshit? Was it all just wishful thinking…? Blood and adrenaline rushed in his head, in his heart, and he vaguely heard a voice from the past snickering in the back of his mind with the vision of a lumbering, drunken pig: ‘You snivelling little worm, you aren’t worth shit to anyone but your bitch of a mother! You were born useless and you’ll die useless!’

He felt the burning on his scalp, the blood trickling down his nose, and the coppery taste upon his tongue. He looked upon Evol, taking humour in the naivety of humanity, his chapped lips twisted into a scornful smirk… He looked upon him and for a moment, saw not an Ancient, but a human man, more monstrous and incensing than any cryptic being.

Rage and revulsion clenched themselves around his heart, sharp claws piercing the steel.

_ Die. _

Crimson was thrust forward, and she sang, sang as the dark blood of the man’s chest seeped down her length.

_ Die. Die, you bastard, die! _

Wide-eyed, Evol fell back and to his knees. “You fool.” He taunted, looking upon Kroitz with merely the same smile as before. “Killing me won’t change a thing. Soon, our dreams will be fulfilled.” His arms crossed in front of his seeping wound, and blood spilt across the birthplace floor. “Quanlee will appear on the seventh day. Foolish humans… Wait in fear for Quanlee’s arrival.”

“Wait!” Evann’s voice piqued up. “What’s going to happen!?”

But it was futile. Kroitz fought the urge to throw his blade down, hack at the Ancient’s body until it was in pieces, the anger burning in the tips of his fingers and the tightness of his jaw as his chest heaved with short breaths.

“Pitiful human! Pathetic fools! Soon, they will all be transformed!” Evol groaned, scarlet leaking from between his crooked teeth. “A marvellous world awaits them…” He fell, his life draining away with the pool of red about the floor. “Finally, I too am able to rest.”

And… He laughed, lowly, throatily. Laughed, until he could no longer draw breaths from his lungs... Laughed, at the fragility of humanity, at the crumbling of the pillar, until death claimed him.

 

\--

 

An upturned battlefield, the chasm looked akin to the aftermath of the war, or the Disorder, discarded artillery, broken tanks and pieces of the ancient weaponry systems littered together in mangled piles. Blankets and bodybags covered the dead… And there was misery was amongst the ranks as they questioned what it had all been for.

“Evol said that… The Disorder was a side-effect. That when the ruins were used to create Quanlee, the disasters were because of excess energy they were releasing.” Evann explained, looking out across the destruction from the makeshift elevator with his hands on his hips. Stooping his head, he continued in a half-mutter, “Supposedly everything was planned by the Ancients. And that Specto guy? Evol told me he was his clone. That his purpose was to give him some kind of ‘message’.” He lifted a hand to his chin in thought. “I still don’t really get what it all means, but anyway… That’s about when you came in, and you heard the rest.”

The call of the Ancients had been for one purpose, and one purpose only: to guide Specto to the birthplace to speak with Evol. Specto - who had been working on the project for decades…  _ That _ was why. He only ever existed to herald Quanlee’s arrival, not to claim the power. Kroitz, and Evann? What had they been? Mere guard dogs, claiming the slabs and neutralising the Disorder only to clear the doctor’s path?

All his efforts, all his toil and inner machinations - everything, everything had all been part of a grander scheme… Back when he’d taken the first slab from the Sandworm’s Den and hence begun the program, he’d believed in the possibility Specto had been using him. Instead, his actions had been chalked up to fate… And he’d stood by it, because the alternative was to admit he had been used, and he had despised that notion, hated that he could ever have been manipulated by anyone, let alone a disgusting bastard like the doctor.

So, now, when it came to the Ancients… Why did he only feel numbness? He couldn’t even laugh with bitterness as he had before. He could only look upon the cracked and empty shell of a chasm below, the birthplace devoid of any power - look upon the remains of the artillery and his fallen men and know that it was all for naught, just dismal proof that the Ancients had strung him along like a puppet… That even acting from the past, they had more power to change the world than he ever could.

“Man, this is one long elevator shaft.” Evann mused, glancing over the edge with a frown before promptly stepping back, exhaling as if to display his boredom. “Did Quanlee really leave from here? Where does this lead to, Kroitz?”

Save for the grinding of the elevator’s gears, silence fell. Not caring if the boy expected a genuine answer to that question, Kroitz sighed through his nose. He’d been exhausted by their skirmish. Resting his weight upon Crimson, he knelt beside where Evann stood. He’d only cared to listen to what Evol had told the boy, prior to his own entry. Nothing else mattered to him, but for him to be able now to make sense of his situation.

“It was here, fifty years ago, that the Disorder and my ambition were conceived.” He muttered, hissing as his eyes drifted from the crumbling chasm to the elevator floor.  “Look what has happened…!”

Evann stared down at him, but said nothing.

“Was all this... Predetermined…? Were all my efforts in vain?”

But as the words left his mouth, so too did something in his mind click. Determination,  _ refusal _ . A snap like a broken bowstring. A rush of anger overwhelming the numbness.

_ No _ . This was  _ not _ his fate. It  _ could not _ be his fate.

After everything… He would not let it be.

His jaw clenched and he pushed his weight up on his sword.  “No, I won’t accept it! I can’t!”

“Hey, worrying about the past is pointless!” Evann told him. “What we face now is more dangerous than anything in the past!” He stooped his head in thought again. “Don’t you remember that Evol said, ‘Quanlee shall rule the entire world’? What is going to happen now?”

It was not over.

It would not be over until he drew his final breath.

He had chosen his path.

He would take the world - or he would die trying.

No one,  _ no one _ \- not even the Ancients - would deny him that.

“...What’s going to happen?” As he strengthened his tone, Kroitz felt his lips tug into a smirk.  “Events are already unfolding… It has already begun, just as I planned.”

Brow knit in uncertainty, Evann watched him rise to his feet. “...Kroitz?”

“It’s not over yet. Whatever may happen, nothing will stand in my way.”

“Kroitz, what are you thinking!?” The boy snapped sharply. “Quanlee is not what you want! You’re still only thinking about yourself!”

He refused.

_ Idiot… I’m still wasting my time with you. _

He  _ refused _ .

“Nonsense. You don’t understand because you can’t see the truth. The strong carve their own paths!”

The pale light of dawn shone above ground. Like the day, so too, did the end begin anew.


	8. Act VIII + Epilogue

* * *

 

**ACT VIII**

 

The General’s face was awash with contempt… Anguish. He rested his elbows upon the desk before him and, head in hands, groaned. As expected of a man summoned with great haste from the borderlands to Escarre’s base, he appeared devoid of energy.

Straight-backed, and as unperturbed by the situation at hand as he could possibly make himself be, Kroitz stared at him until slow, gravelly words formed in his throat.

“What have you done…?”

‘Why did you pursue this damned project?’ Was what he intended to ask. ‘Why did you allow so much destruction, so many lives to be claimed? For what purpose?’

And the answers were simple… So very simple. But they would fall upon an ignorant mind. The General was the same as the rest of them… Ruminating in their bases like cattle. He always had been, he always would be.

Kroitz sucked in a breath.  “I did what was necessary. I followed the path of progress.” And he would continue to tread that path, tread every inch until he had what he wanted… To turn away would be to relapse into the same placidity as the rest of them.

He couldn’t imagine a greater disgrace. That he had even believed for a moment it was going to befall him was intolerable. Slaughtering Evol for his mockery was only the start… When he snapped their cloying strings, when he claimed Quanlee, the Ancients would know that he alone was worthy of grasping their failing world in his hands.

The General pinched the bridge of his nose. “...‘Necessary’? No, neutralising the Disorder was necessary.” His hand balled into a fist and it slammed down upon the desk all of a sudden. “ _ Saving lives _ was necessary, not taking them!”

“The men gave their lives for the betterment of humanity. They died with honour. There’s nothing more we could have asked for.” He spoke with the feigned cordiality he always used when addressing the General, but it was slipping with his patience. It was wasted.

The General took a moment to release a long, heavy sigh. Bitterness overtook his voice when he said, “If that’s what you believe, then I have nothing more to say to you. Though, I must also admit… The fault lies with myself, as well, for ever having placed my trust in you.” He held his gaze. “You’re relieved of command, and of your duty. Return your insignia.”

_ Of course _ . He’d known this was going to happen. He’d been called to meet with the General and there was no other reason for it but to remove his rank for his supposed insubordination and abuse of power. Diene had brought this on, running and squealing to her C.O. following the opening of the seal. He hadn’t seen her since he’d given her his last goodbye. He didn’t wish to. After everything, his words had meant nothing to her… As he moved forward, she could only mean nothing to him. They had both made their choice. But hers was one she would come to regret.

It was surprising that the higher-ups hadn’t shoved him straight through the military courts, no questions asked; had him put to death for penance, whatever would make them feel better about their weak-minded interpretation of his actions. Surprising… And frustrating… Very frustrating. But, it was not over. It was  _ far  _ from over. Once he finally obtained Quanlee, the General - and Diene - would see the error of their judgement.

(He would have him begging at his feet, one way or another… For mercy? Well. That was for the General himself to decide).

Towering above the desk with the ghost of a scornful smile upon his face, Kroitz unfolded his hands, holding the small box containing his Colonel’s insignia behind his back. Slowly, almost gingerly, he placed it in front of the General, using his index finger to push it closer to him.

And… Knowing he no longer needed to falsify respect for him, he snickered. Were the situation not so incredibly dire, he might have even found it liberating. “Idiot. You’ll come to realise your mistake.” As the General stiffened in his seat with an unimpressed frown, he added coolly,  “Who will you call upon, when Arcada mobilise their troops? Who else do you have? Without me, the Nortis Army is nothing.” He let his eyes thin into slits as he scoffed,  “Bear that in mind, when the war comes again.”

He turned, and left the office. He left the base, and then he left Escarre. He went where he couldn’t be found, away from the military’s operatives and the irritation their idiocy brought, to bide his time - until the dawn of the seventh day.

 

\--

 

“Will you come back?”

Her voice was sickly sweet and laced with longing, like the saccharine smile upon her face. She was asking in earnest, this woman. With her big round eyes, full of hope and desire, and her hands clutched to her breast. Beth was her name - or was it Bella…?  _ Hm _ . He couldn’t actually remember…

Well. Not that it mattered. She had a pleasant face, but he’d found her to have been rather tiresome company; droll and empty-headed, only good for looking at, the same as most barmaids. But, it was her hospitality and her bed he’d wanted, not her.

She was no Diene. No one ever could be.

The time had come, for him to leave her tiny backwater village and return to Escarre, return to civilisation and relative normalcy; the seventh day would arrive with the next sunrise, and with it, Quanlee.

Raising his hand to her face, he stroked the curvature of her chin, brushed the rough pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, listened to her whimper in response as he spoke blunt words contrary to his actions,  “I doubt it. But don’t worry…”  Folding his hands behind his back, he peered down upon her wide, glassy eyes with a humoured smirk.  “You’ve done your country a great service in allowing me to stay here. Your generous aid will be remembered. I thank you.”

And she watched him disappear from her village, disappear from her life as quickly as he’d entered it, with no shared words of goodbye.  


\--

 

‘Quanlee’ was the shaken word mumbled from the lips of every citizen of Escarre.

‘What is Quanlee?’, they asked; rumours flew back and forth, they questioned whether it was bad, or good, knowing nothing for sure but believing somehow that it would herald a significant change.

What change would that be? Would the words that Evol had spoken, of a world ruled by Quanlee - the ultimate being, the pinnacle of creation and evolution - ring true?

Kroitz refused.

The only way,  _ the only way _ that Quanlee would have their world was as his proxy. Their world of grief and chaos, hatred and war, their world where only the strong could survive - this was  _ his _ world, his world that he had worked for and proved his worth to, and no damned prophecy conjured up by the Ancients was going to stop him from having it.

Quanlee was going to appear, on that day - the seventh day - in Escarre. And then, as had been his plan from the beginning, he was going to take Quanlee.

He would finish what he’d started. He’d reach the top of the pillar. Nothing else mattered, but his victory.

So, arms folded, back straight, he stood upon the terraces of Escarre’s uptown, a lone, unmoving figure. And, he waited.

He couldn’t have been sure how long he had been there, when a voice roused him from his period of standing in the warm morning sunlight, eyes shut, silent. That same familiar voice, youthful and rough, dripping with irritation and ill will, “Kroitz!? What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Perhaps Evann was questioning his absence, intending to ask ‘what the hell are you doing back here right now?’; perhaps after hearing of his removal from the forces, he thought he’d gotten rid of him for good. The light trace of a smile crossed Kroitz’s face at the notion, as he answered matter-of-factly,  “I’m waiting.”

He could practically hear Evann’s expression twisting into a disapproving grimace at his words. “What?”

As fast as the smile had come, it left.  “I’m waiting for Quanlee!” Kroitz grunted through clenched teeth; eyes opening, he cast a sidelong gaze at the boy. Did he  _ really _ have to clarify? Had the empty-headed little shit already forgotten what he’d told him seven days before?  “I was the one who started all this. Dammit! He must come back to me!” As the words left his mouth, so too did his tone raising with his frustrations… The recollection of Evol’s mocking laughter, the feeling of anguish, of utter shame, that had come with the fleeting concept of failure; the way the pain rose in his chest, boiled his blood with the rage and the disgrace.  “I must put an end to this. If I yield to Quanlee, I won’t be able to live with myself any more!” At the weight of his words, at the knitting of Evann’s brow in response, his lips spread into a grin.  “I’m going to defeat him!” Defeat him, use him to take the world… That was all that could be done. All that he would  _ allow _ to be done.  “All of this has been preordained, ever since my initial involvement with him.”

The boy winced. “You believe all this is fate? Don’t be such an idiot!”

_ Fate _ … Yes, fate. Fate, that single concept that had become so fickle. The Ancients had laid forth the path, but he was going to carve his own way forward. Any other outcome, any other  _ fate _ , would be one that was worse than death.

Then, the sun disappeared.

On a cloudless day, darkness shrouded the sky like a storm was brewing, all of a sudden, faster than a click of the fingers. The air became cold. An eerie stillness crossed the city, the distant voices of the milling citizens fading into nothingness.

“Huh?” Evann muttered, tipping his head towards the darkening sky. “What’s that?”

Kroitz, too, lifted his gaze, eyeing the single shard of light amongst the swelling blackness.

The seven days were up. Finally, the time had come.

Dropping to the ground, the light formed a blinding tower amongst the darkness. Cries and gasps of dismay, confusion and horror could be heard among the streets, drifting with the cold wind; so too did the footsteps of armed, cautious soldiers approach.

One hand lifted to shade his eyes from the glaring light, the other to wrap his fingers onto Crimson’s hilt.

Fifty years had passed since the seeds of his ambitions were sown, long before his own time. At long last, the power had arrived.

He was ready to see it to the end.

He had no other choice but to see it to the end.

Darkness whisked around the descending light like a whirlpool, a cloying spiral of bitter winds that echoed the…  _ Ah _ . The opening of the seal - and the mural shrouded by the base. But he no longer cared about the intricacies, the fascinations of the Ancients’ wonders.

_ Show yourself _ , he goaded silently,  _ Show yourself and fight me! _

“That’s… Quanlee?” Evann half-murmured with an odd sense of wariness.

Weapons raised, the oncoming soldiers surrounded the end of the light.  _ Idiots _ … Were they prepared to get in his way now, too? What were their orders - to dispatch Quanlee, or simply to stop him from claiming the power? Kroitz neither knew, nor cared. Anyone who got in his way now, even if they happened to be his former subordinates, would fall to his blade.

An orb descended through the brilliant light, billowing like the darkness before it began to take shape; with an eerily soft gasp from within, both the shadows and the brightness faded, leaving behind the product of the Disorder and his fate.

He stood before them, in the form of a pallid, white-haired child, loomed over by the surrounding men, glowing with feigned serenity in place of his tower of light. Quanlee smiled, as if the years of hiding away and watching humanity, waiting for his time to come were a great weight lifted from his shoulders.

“Good morning, everyone.” He said, gently, opening his arms with an inhaled breath as if expecting an embrace. “Good morning, my world.”

Lowering the hand shielding his eyes, Kroitz stared at the being with disdain.  _ This _ was him? Were the Ancients genuinely fucking with him? Of all the forms Quanlee, the pinnacle of all life and evolution, could have taken…

“Is he... A child?” Evann asked with an unsettled tone, for once managing to reflect what Kroitz was also thinking. “That… Can’t be! Is he the apex of every living being…?”

_ Ah _ , this must have been an attempt at deceit. Yes, to appear in such an unthreatening form was only a ruse. This being would yield to him and his command, no matter what it looked like.

Quanlee laughed as he stepped towards Evann, seeming to look him over with an air of curiosity, “Thank you, everyone. Thanks to your wishes, I have been created.”

“You!” Evann snapped. “What do you want? What the hell are you going to do!?”

“What’s the matter? Why are you afraid? I was born to lead all living beings.” The voice the answer was given in was so thick with calmness it was almost mocking. “To bring your future into the present, and to bring about an eternal world.”

Fingers clenching around Crimson’s hilt, Kroitz snorted.

_ No. _

This child, this creature, this  _ power _ would not,  _ could not _ do any of that alone - only he was able to. It  _ would not _ happen any other way.

He  _ refused _ .

“You’re full of crap, Quanlee!” Fists bared, Evann spat, “The world is finally at peace, and now you’re going to cause a new disaster!?”

“You have nothing to worry about.” The being chuckled. “You will have everything you desire. Tranquility, and eternal peace. That is why I was born, why I am here.”

_ Hah _ .

The time had come to end this little shit’s ramblings. Kroitz drew his blade.

“Quanlee!” He bellowed, blood rushing in his ears.  “I will not give in to you!”

Startled by the outcry, Evann’s head snapped in his direction, “Kroitz…!?”

And the being also looked upon him, expression just as soothed as before… To remove that smugness from his face, that would only be the beginning of how gratifying the conclusion to all of this would be.

The thought pulled his lips into a bitter smirk as he announced,  “My name is Kroitz.” He held tight on his blade, preparing to strike; faster than lightning, before the being could even tell what was happening, he’d have him taken down. “Quanlee, glory of the Ancients - the Nortis Army welcomes you!” As they would welcome him back to their ranks, upon his success, for when this power was his they would have no other choice. And so he told him, told the soldiers and Evann, told the Ancients and the world,  “I’m the only one worthy of this ultimate power. You will belong to me! Under me, a new world will be created!”

But his vision meant little to the being. Quanlee laughed again, voice high and almost brittle as he brought his hand to his mouth. “You fool. I belong to no one.” In those moments, the thin, patronising smile upon his face grew unbearable to look upon. “What point is there in fighting? I’ve got the whole world in my hands!”

This little shit knew nothing.

Anger and impatience swelled in his chest until they burst. His composure shattered like glass.

Everything he had done, everything he had worked, for was for this very moment.

“Those are brave words from a kid! Kneel down before my blade!”

And that was the last thing he cried out, raw from his throat as he hurtled towards the being.

He saw Quanlee raise his hand. Then, Escarre became a blur. The condescending narrowing of the child’s eyes with his rising amusement burnt rage into his heart, but as quick as that thought had come it was replaced by shock… Horror.

A grim realisation that as his vision faded to white, he couldn’t move... Couldn’t feel his arms, nor legs.

All he could feel was... Crushing, crushing in his lungs as if all air had been sucked from them. And there was pain, a searing pain in his body, running like electricity in his veins and upon his skin. But no sound could be made from his lips, from his throat.

There was only pain. And terror.

_ No… _

Quanlee’s laughter drifted across what remained of his senses, “What an amusing man! He shows an interesting human trait… Will it prove useful?”

_ No…! _

The light turned to darkness, and then…

There was nothing.

 

\--

  
  


_ [“It’s so sad. You humans, what is it that you want? You must know by now. People must progress. They grew tired of foolish fighting, so they called for me to be born. You’ll see a new evolutionary era of eternal peace. A world without strife, a harmony humans could only wish for! Everything will become one. Human and human, human and animal, human and nature. Join me and make the future.  _

_ Well, let’s start from here, shall we? I’ll realise your long-sought ideals. The world will no longer be the same!”] _

 

Nothingness, the brief respite of numbness, became pain.

An unbearable aching, like his heart had been torn from his chest. But his body was no more. He could not move, could not see, only  _ think _ , only  _ feel _ .

But he did not want to.

He had failed.

His dreams had failed. Nothing was left, but a nightmare.

_ Hell… _

_ Oh, hell. _

What had he done…?

The being’s mocking laughter echoed, the answer to his question.

He had  _ failed _ .

He had failed and destroyed himself in the process.

Nothing remained. Nothing but anguish.

_ Please _ , he begged, but the voice was no longer the acute rasping of a man - it was the terrified, whimpering cries of a little boy.  _ Please, it hurts... Please, make it stop. _

The eyes of that boy had seen the pain of humanity time and time again. The heart of that boy had turned to stone, to ice, to steel. The soul of that boy had only ever longed for an end to the wretched world that was.

  
  


_ [“I see… You sought the power of the Ancients to change a corrupt world, but the only thing you changed was yourself. You let your ambitions blind you. In the end, you only wanted success. It didn’t matter what you did, or even how you did it. You lusted for battle and the demise of your foes, for victory and nothing else. You became that same corruption… How pitiful!”] _

  
  


This thing… This  _ being _ was inside him, inside his mind and thoughts and feelings and memories…  _ Shit, no _ ... Why,  _ why _ did it have to be there…? What did this damned creature want from him; what was left of him? Was his horrific failure to claim his power not enough?

  
  


_ [“But… You truly did wish for the suffering of this world to be over, didn’t you? A world where your countrymen were not brought to their knees by war or disasters… A world where your father no longer existed and your mother would be able to smile.”] _

  
  


_ Leave me alone, please! Please _ , the voice of the same boy came again.  _ You can’t be in there, inside my head - please! Get out! _

  
  


_ [“This world is still possible... I will give it to you. I will bring about a new dawn, and erase the suffering of everyone. But…! There is one last thing. A final favour I must ask of you…”] _

  
  


The pain struck like white-hot daggers, blistering and unbearable. He wanted to cry into the void, scream until his lungs gave out, but he had no lungs; no throat, no mouth.

_ You… Monster! _ The boy yelled in his place.  _ You filthy creature! I don’t want your stupid idea of a world! If it isn’t mine, then what’s the point!? _

_ It was supposed to be me. _

_ I was supposed to save this world. _

_ I was the only one who was ever worthy. _

_ But _ you.

_ You took that from me. _

_ You took _ everything  _ from me. _

Like the final cries of the culled animal, crawling from its hunter, the pain flourished into rage.

Light crossed in front of his burning eyes.

He felt the tips of his fingers gripping tight on the handle of a blade.

A strained voice rose with the darkened surroundings, “No! Kroitz, not you...!”

And he met a gaze filled with sunlight, as words finally began to leave his reformed mouth.

“I must… I must kill…”

His voice shook with his limbs, through teeth clenched like a vice.

This was the end.

Warm tears fell from blank eyes, streaking his face.

“I must kill you!”

 

\--

 

A young Evann emerged in his memory, wide-eyed, red-cheeked and sniffling. As he was prone to doing, since he hadn’t yet grown to wrap his head around the concepts of caution and self-preservation, he had dropped out of a tree he’d been attempting to climb and had scraped his elbow. He’d then wandered into Mother’s surgery with a pet lip, in hopes that she’d fix it up.

She stroked his hair and spoke soft, gentle words to soothe him, healed his pain with magic and herbs, bandaged the wound excessively. All the while he sat there, stubby legs kicking over the edge of her workbench, whimpering about the pain. She never told him not to cry, to keep his chin up and be strong. She coddled him, like everyone else in the village did. Was it because he’d lost his own mother years before? Or, was it because he was the Ranger’s son? For what other reason could they have adored such a pathetic brat?

“There, all better.” She cooed with a smile, helping him off the table and back to his feet. “Be a good boy now, and don’t get yourself into any more trouble.” As he nodded, rubbing hard at his eyes with the heels of his palms, her tone became mildly sharper as she called across the room, “Kroitz, you’ll walk Evann back home, won’t you?”

Frowning, wincing at the request, Kroitz peered up from the book in his hands; a nonfiction text regarding the lifestyle and culture of the Ancients. He glanced briefly between Mother, Evann’s sulking face, the page he was on, and Mother again.  _ Ugh _ . Couldn’t the little brat have taken himself back home? He’d been wandering around by himself in the first place, hadn’t he?

“Fine.” He mumbled, showing his displeasure despite having agreed. As much as he wanted to keep reading about the morbid-but-oddly-fascinating sacrificial rituals undertaken by the Ancients, he knew better than to argue with what Mother had asked of him. After marking his page and shutting the book he slid off his chair and went to linger by the doorway, waiting for the other boy to come along with him.

Evann seemed just as unimpressed at having to be  _ taken _ back home. That, or he was still in enough pain that it was making him miserable. His feet kicked along the gravelled pathway outside, head hanging and shoulders slouched.

“Don’t go wandering off.” Kroitz told him, reaching out and grabbing onto his wrist as they walked. Knowing Evann, he would have seen something or someone on the way back home and end up forgetting he was hurt.

With a yelp, the other boy cast his pout up at him, “I wasn’t gonna…” Though he wiggled his wrist free, he then slipped his gummy hand into Kroitz’s with a loose hold on his fingers. He sighed, then sniffled a bit, and after that, asked with a less annoyed tone, “What were you reading, Kroitz?”

“A book.” Was the deadpan reply he gave.

“I know that, stupid!” Evann puffed out his cheeks. “What kind of book?”

Kroitz snorted, but decided to humour him,  “A book about the Ancients. Why?”

“...Why what?”

“Why do you care?” The brat never usually showed any interest in what he was doing, outside of sparring, at least.

Shrugging, Evann muttered, “I don’t know… You’re always just studying or training.” His nose twitched a bit, and then he spoke again, sounding surprisingly level-headed and mature, “You never just hang out. And when you do, you’re a jerk to everyone, anyway…” He glanced up at him, frowning, and asked, “Isn’t it boring? Aren’t you lonely?”

What was he trying to say…? Did Evann really care about how Kroitz felt?  _ Ugh _ , was he actually getting some kind of  _ sympathy _ from this little brat? But… He wouldn’t understand, no matter what he’d tell him. He was too young, still, to understand.  “I don’t need anyone. I’m fine by myself.” Looking down at the other boy sidelong, he added with a cooler tone,  “You’re all a bunch of losers, anyway. None of you are even that good at sparring. Why would I want to hang out with any of you?”

As Evann’s face twisted with anger, his own lit up with an amused grin. After ripping his hand way, the brat swung his leg back with a huff and rammed the toe of his shoe into the back of Kroitz’s ankle, causing him to stagger a bit.  _ Yeowch _ … He probably should’ve seen that coming.

“Jerk!” He cried as the kick landed, and then he began to pummel Kroitz’s shoulder with weak and badly-aimed punches, using his good arm only. “Why do you have to be such a jerk all the time!?”

Snickering, Kroitz grabbed the assaulting hand to block the hits, watching as Evann genuinely considered using his injured arm to continue the onslaught for a moment. He didn’t answer the question, instead deciding to end the brat’s attempt at a ‘fight’ before it could begin. Looping his arm around his middle, he yanked him off his feet, and tossed him over his shoulder with a surprising amount of ease.

Only when Evann properly process that he was being carried (whilst more or less dangling upside down) did he start flailing again, drumming his fists on Kroitz’s back as he yelled and whined, “H-Hey! Put me down! I’m not finished with you!!”

Kroitz’s response was both amused and nonchalant,  “Mother told me to take you home. I’ll get clipped ‘round the ear if I kick your backside today.”

“I’ll show you! You’re gonna be sorry when…” Evann’s legs wriggled under his hold a bit. “...When I get down!”

“ _ If _ you get down.”

“Sh-Shut up!!”

Kroitz shook his head.  “Don’t worry, though. You’re not the only one who can’t beat me. And who knows? Maybe if you keep practising, one day, you might even stand a chance.”

“That day’ll be today, you jerk!!” Evann huffed, getting more and more agitated the more Kroitz laughed at his words.

But, it wasn’t that day.

Or that week, month or year.

As young boys, neither of them ever so much as thought that when that day finally came, many years down the line, their fight would be one to decide not just their own fates, but the fate of the entire world.

 

\--

 

A blinding pain, torn straight across his chest and arms, returned him to his senses.

He dropped to his knees, hand pressed to the wound. Blood seeped through his fingers, splattered down to the cold, hard floor below.

_ How…? _ What had... Happened…?

And then his gaze lifted, lingered upon the familiar, grimacing face; upon the very eyes that carried those distant memories.

Wheezing, he coughed blood up from his lungs, lowering his head again to let it spill from his lips.

This was not how he’d pictured the end… It was not upon the battlefield of war, nor a part of his own orchestrations. No, it was the product of his own foolishness, his own hubris. He had failed, failed so miserably… And now the agony of it all was overwhelming.

Crimson’s hilt slipped from his worn fingers, and his body collapsed forward, into the bloody pool before him.

There was nothing left of him, nothing left but a broken shell.

The shell of a man who had touched glory and fought against fate. The shell of a boy who had wanted to change the world.

“Maybe he wasn’t smart enough.” Unimpressed, the being’s voice drifted across the darkness. “Physically, he was rather strong, but it wasn’t enough to withstand my powers.”

He couldn’t muster anger, as much as he wished he could, as much as he desired to lift his blade again and fight the creature until the very last breath. He was pained, and tired,  _ so very tired… _

“Evann, now put that failure out of his misery. A battle ends only when your enemy is dead!”

Yes… He  _ was _ a failure. A complete and utter disgrace… Perhaps,  _ perhaps _ to die by the hand of an old friend was more than he could have hoped for, more than he deserved.

“No! I won’t do it!” Was the boy’s retort. There was grief, or something akin to it, in his voice… “I won’t kill Kroitz!”

The steel of his heart buckled.

_ Evann… You idiot. You stupid, stupid idiot. _

“I do not understand you.” The being spoke again, detached and monotonous. “He’s your enemy. He was trying to kill you, was he not?”

“You say you’re the pinnacle of evolution, but the truth is, you don’t understand a damn thing.” Evann spat. “Deprive us of our individuality, our selfishness and our beliefs, and you destroy our humanity!”

His blurred figure walked into view, lingering by Kroitz’s side until he knelt, undeterred by the blood spilt by his blade. Gently, he pressed on his shoulder and eased him onto his back, peering down upon his face with a sloping brow, the faintest trace of a solemn smile crossing his face.

A restrained grunt of both pain and frustration emerged from Kroitz’s throat. With every slow blink of his eyes, his vision began to disintegrate into black dots.  “...E...Eva...nn…” Was the last word his aching lungs could manage.

_ Please… Evann, none of that matters, now. End it… End me. _

But… He would not. He  _ could _ not. “If other unique individuals didn’t exist, I wouldn’t be able to talk, argue, or even laugh!” Evann’s voice wavered slightly, as Kroitz felt him slipping one hand under the back of his head for support, the other using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away the dripping blood from his chin… _ Strange _ . Yes, exasperating and futile though his words were… Something about his presence at that moment was… Soothing? “If I kill Kroitz for actions he committed while under your control, I destroy my own humanity!”

_ Of all people… Of all people, why did it have to be you…? _ He mused, with bitter humour, finally letting his eyelids succumb to the heaviness.

Whether he lived or died, it was the end.

The pillar crumbled beneath him. And so, he fell.

He fell, and fell, and fell…

Into a warm, comforting darkness.

  
  


* * *

 

**EPILOGUE**

 

What relief his lack of consciousness brought was short-lived. Kroitz woke to find himself in Locca’s barracks, his wounds wrapped in bandages and the pain minimised. But it was the recollection of everything that had happened, flooding back through his returning awareness, that left a dull ache in the pit of his chest, and a sour taste in his mouth.

He should have been dead.

After all that he had done in his pursuit of glory, the climb of the pillar, he should not have been there to dwell upon it.

What had come of it all, but destruction, death and failure?

He had lost his rank, his career, his dreams. Not only had Quanlee defeated him in a matter of moments, he had taken over his body, emptied his soul and used him as a mindless tool in battle against those standing in the way of his new world… The being had used him, as he had believed he would have used the being.

Everything he had done had been orchestrated by the Ancients’ design. But it had all been for naught.

Now, there was nothing left.

Nothing but the husk of the prodigy that once was… A pained, pitiful, broken man, carrying the weight of his shame.

“How are you feeling, Kroitz? Have you calmed down yet?”

Evann had been seated at his bedside for… Well, longer than he had been conscious. He could only ask ‘why’; why he gave a damn, why he’d dragged him back to Locca, why he’d had his injuries tended to - why, after loathing him for years and years, he was now treating him with compassion… Compassion he didn’t need or want. Compassion that was wasted upon him.

Frowning, Kroitz gave him a blank sidelong stare, before turning his head away, grunting,  “Why did you save me? Why didn’t you finish off this pitiful failure you see before you?” He inhaled sharply, wincing a bit as he found there was still a faint crushing pain from his wound as he breathed.

Though he said nothing, Evann shifted a little in his seat, seeming to straighten his back.

“I believed my passion would win me glory and reveal ancient wonders, but such was not my destiny.” His eyes slid shut.  “When defeated, one should lose all. To escape death is merely to be forced to live one worthless day after another.”  Speaking those words to the boy, acknowledging them as reality, relit the last spark of anger within the dullness of his heart. Clenching his fist and teeth as tight as he could, he snapped at the boy,  “Why did you save me!? I was prepared to die in battle! To take pity on the defeated is cruel!”

Evann looked… Hurt. Then, enraged. The chair’s legs clawed loudly on the floor as he leapt from his seat, looming above the bed. Exhaling through his nose, Kroitz looked away from his face again, from the anguish caused by his lack of understanding.

“What the hell are you talking about? Are you done?” The boy said in a cold voice. “Quanlee said that his purpose was to unite everything. That would destroy individual identity. And it’s exactly what you’re doing now!” He took a long, deep breath, before continuing, “You’ve lost your purpose, and dreams. Let those go, and you really have lost! Isn’t true defeat when you surrender and abandon your identity and dreams? I could never live with that!”

But none of that remained. What Quanlee hadn’t ripped from him, he had cast aside on his own accord… He could not surrender what he no longer possessed. For Evann, it was simple; Evann, who still could achieve his goals of peace, if he fought Quanlee and defeated him.

Evann, who was born blessed and guided by the Spirits. The only one immune to Quanlee’s control. The only one who could fight fate.

Evann, who would now go on to save and rebuild the world.

“ _ Hah! _ Are you mocking me again?” Kroitz spat at him, because it was all he could find in him to say.

“You’re an arrogant bastard!” The boy snapped back. “I hope you realise that, you self-absorbed idiot!”

He turned, and left the room, slamming the door hard in his wake.

Kroitz exhaled heavily. Settling back on the pillow, he brought his hand to his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t care what Evann thought of him… Or, he  _ shouldn’t _ have. He hadn’t before, why should he have begun to now? Because he had saved his life? Why did he deserve it for having gone against his wishes? ...What even was there left to care about?

Staring at the blank ceiling, he considered the boy’s words again.

_ When you’ve abandoned who you are, then you are truly defeated. _

Yet… Was there anything left he had not cast aside? Anything but abhorrent disgrace?

What did Evann see, that he didn’t…? He could only wish he knew.

_ Must I endure more suffering? Will I make it through this? _

 

\--

 

Years ago, when he had looked upon the rows and rows of infirmary beds, belonging to those bruised, beaten and broken by war - he never once believed the same would happen to him. That fate was only for the weak. And he was strong. Strong-minded, strong-willed; a great swordsman, a brilliant soldier. The prodigy of the Nortis Army, their Ace.

What would become of him? Would the harrowing memories of possession, the vulnerability and the pain, the utter nightmare that was having the being inside his mind and wanting it gone, return to haunt him like the shock of war had for so many of his colleagues? Return like those days of his childhood, angering and bitter?

He wondered, as much as he wished he wouldn’t, what his father would think of him now, were the wretched pig still alive and out there. Would he snort with cold, haughty laughter, like he always did, because his belief that his son was a useless piece of shit that would amount to nothing had come true?

And… After all he had done to prove him wrong…

Seated on the edge of the bed, stooped over his lap, he held his head in his hands. Shame, anguish twisted in the pit of his stomach; he released a heavy sigh through his parted fingers.

He didn’t even want a smoke, though the medics had confiscated them already; citing some bullshit about the damage to his lungs from the wound not yet being known. Or a drink. Or any sort of temporary respite. He just wanted it all to be over.

_ End it, then. End the pain, end the suffering, end it all. End it yourself. _

The torn shirt of his uniform had been folded by the medics in a neat pile at the end of the bed. So, too, was Crimson propped up at the end, next to a package of his belongings that had been moved to that room from the base at Escarre… A not-so-subtle reminder that they wanted him gone, that he was of no use now to them, or to anybody.

With what strength he could find in his worn body, he lifted himself from the bed and walked to the shirt, turning the frayed fabric over. Crimson was enough, in battle. She had always been enough. But a habit had arisen in his teenaged years of carrying a small survival knife on his person, in case his weaker swords were lost or rendered useless.

It hadn’t been removed, thankfully. And when he pulled it open, he found the blade to be as sharp and bright as the day he’d acquired it, as if it had seen no use or wear over the years.

The inset gem of Crimson’s eye glinted, watched him with contempt. He glanced to her, and weakly smiled, a smile he believed would be his last.

What would become of her, now? Perhaps she would find a new master. Was that why she was angry? Or, was it because she wanted to be the one to take his life, to drink his blood as a final twisted farewell?

But the Ancients had already taken everything from him. Even one such as her, who had fought so valiantly by his side, he had to deny, in the end.

He had to do this, alone.

He had to rid the world and himself and his miserable, futile existence.

So he returned to the edge of the bed. Inhaled, and pressed the tip of the knife to his collarbone. Silently, he bid the world he had failed goodbye.

And then, and then… His wrist shook, refusing to move. The very next moment, he had thrown the blade to the floor with a clatter.

His worn, injured chest wheezed with laughter, his hands back over his face. Bitter, aching laughter, but laughter all the same.

He couldn’t do it.

Why? What was he frightened of? It would have been so easy. Just to thrust the blade in and end it all - as he’d ended the lives of his enemies, time and time again, without a second thought. Because it was duty, because they had stood in the way of progress.

Death was not to be feared. He’d never been afraid of death.

He laughed, because what sense was left in him found the situation so utterly ridiculous. What he could not bear was that he had become so pitiful, that taking his own life was the only answer. And that would be that. That would be his legacy, that the fall from the pillar had shattered both his body and his soul; that he died on his knees, an irredeemable disgrace. His name would be tainted for eternity.

He could die there, weak and worthless. End the pain, there and then.

Or… He could live on. Cling to what remained of himself, of his dreams.

Live to fight another day.

Yes, he had a heart of steel. He had always believed that. But steel was not infallible. It could be bent, broken, moulded, reshaped. Even the deadliest of blades were forged that way.

He leant down, and picked the knife back up. Steadily, he pressed on the back, easing it closed.

_ Live on, then, you miserable bastard. Live, and carry your weight. _

And with the knife in hand still, he leant back down on the sheets, eyelids drifting shut.

 

\--

 

The sky over Escarre cleared. Quanlee was no more.

As he had laid, useless in his injured state, Evann had been the one to take up his sword and change the fate of the world… To  _ save _ it from the creature, and the Ancients’ will.

He and his entourage had returned to Locca, worn from their battle, but alive and well and victorious. And then, they parted ways.

Kroitz, too, chose to leave the village behind. Where exactly he was supposed to go from there, he didn’t yet know. He had no home to return to; there was nothing tying him to anywhere in particular, not any more. According to hearsay around the barracks he’d heard in brief, Specto had opted to disappear quietly, leaving no notice of his absence, following all that had happened. He was prepared to do the same.

He’d donned civilian clothes, tossed Crimson’s sheath and the bag of his belongings over his shoulders and left the barracks, choosing to thoroughly ignore the medics’ advice of resting for a few days longer. After all, why did it matter? He’d had worse scrapes than the one caused by Evann’s blunt and pathetic excuse for a blade, and he’d survived.

_ Hm… _ He reconsidered that, momentarily, when he was out in the open, fresh air and the wound began to ache.

It stalled his short walk across the vicinity to the train station. Leaning with his back against the barracks’ cold wall, he breathed deep... Crawling back inside was not an option. So, mustering what he could, he pressed a hand to the bandages, waiting for the pale blue light to appear beneath his fingers and the pain to subside.

In the gentle breeze that crossed the village, laughter was carried above the silence, elated and… Familiar. His head curved, almost upon instinct, around the edge of the wall.

Evann laughed, and Diene with him. What about, it wasn’t clear. But Diene… Diene laughed, like he had never seen her laugh before; carefree, unhindered, the morning Sun caught in her dark hair.

Knowing that he could never look her in the eyes again, that he would never feel the warmth of her skin underneath his fingers or the sound of her voice speaking his name, made the taste of his lingering failure all the more bitter. As he gazed upon her lovely face, his heart hurt far more than his wound did.

She was happy. They both were. They’d gotten the peace and the future they had wanted.

_ The day is yours, my sweet _ , he told her, a faint trace of a smile pulling at his lips.  _ And so is the world. _

She was happy, and he could only hope that she always would be.

He let his hands drop, the light of the spell disappearing with the pain.

He walked on to the station, and never looked back.


End file.
